


The Dungeon, Pt. 3: One Of My Turns

by shewasagaystripper



Series: The Dungeon [3]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Brian might be biting off more than he can chew... or not?, Butt Plugs, Cock Rings, Comfort, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Dom/sub, Dungeon, Edging, Flogging, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oh Lord Here We Go Again, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Punishment, Punisment and Reward, Reward, Sex, Spanking, Submission, Verbal Humiliation, restriction, uhhh other sort of sex toys also probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21605749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewasagaystripper/pseuds/shewasagaystripper
Summary: Brian wants to speed up the process of being fully inaugurated into Master John’s Dungeon. Whether taking matters into his own hands is a good idea remains to be seen.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May, John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: The Dungeon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1359334
Comments: 11
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lovelies, here is an update for the Dungeon – in which Brian decides it’s time to take matters into his own hands when he finds his Master being too careful with him. It goes down both well and not so well at the same time ;)
> 
> So this thing turned out to be uhhhh 25000 words long so I decided to split it into two parts; the first 6000-7000 words or so first and the rest following in a week. Have fun reading!
> 
> Notes and warnings: Sex, BDSM, degradation (sort of), overall sinfulness. You’ve been warned!

‘Do that again, Roger.’

‘Yes, Master,’ Roger obeyed instantly to the authoritarian voice of their superior. Brian, in the meantime, did all he could – which wasn’t more than take in a deep breath and close his eyes – to prepare himself for another round of punishment that was carried out by one of his fellow slaves. A low groan escaped Brian when Roger first completely pulled out- and then pushed in the dildo again, and the guitarist felt a drop of sweat dripping off his forehead and falling onto the pillow beneath him. Being forced on all fours while having all of your fellow BDSM enthusiasts either participate in- or watch you getting punished was quite a source of stress and embarrassment to Brian, and the instrument of penalty was not exactly comforting him in any possible way either. John had decided that the kind of crime he had committed was a perfect reason to bring out a heavy tool – read: one of the biggest dildos they owned – to punish him with. Which was fair, even Brian had to admit. Being caught not wearing a cock ring was considered to be a brutal violation of the rules, and even Brian himself acknowledged that it had been a very wrong decision to ignore this law. He was reminded of his poor choices with every time Roger pushed the huge silicone cock so devilishly far up inside of him that it made him want to peel paint off the walls. He knew that the burn was going to feel good later, but while in the process of getting punished, it was anything _but_ pleasurable to feel the tool twisting inside of him.

‘And, Brian? How do you reflect on your disobedience now?’ John asked him bittersweetly.

‘Ah! I’m sorry, Master, I really am!’ Brian squeaked. ‘Please, forgive me, I-I’ll never do it again!’ he added breathlessly – to no avail, unfortunately. The second Roger momentarily stopped the punishments and carefully looked up at John, he was immediately reproved for doing so with a strong grip around his upper arm.

‘Did I tell you to stop, Roger?’ John barked at him.

‘No, Master. I’m sorry,’ Roger answered.

‘I don’t think he’s shown enough remorse yet, so if you dare to stop again without me giving you strict orders for doing so, you’ll soon find yourself in a situation ten times worse than this. Understood?’

‘Yes, Master,’ Roger answered obediently. Brian knew for a fact that Roger probably wouldn’t mind undergoing the same strategies of punishment he was being pulled through now, but they also both knew that distracting John from punishing another slave by being disobedient oneself, was something he really did not accept; something that would get you to face the most painful and most frustrating punishments. Something way worse than ‘just’ this. Brian could picture rope harnesses, cat o’nine tails, and Deep Heat lathered onto naked bodies; floggers and ball gags, blindfolds and dripping candle wax, but even with all of this he was afraid he was underestimating the extent of the punishment. It was to be torture and abstinence, teasing and denial, desertion and humiliation of the highest degree. They all knew that if anyone among them would be able to handle this treatment without breaking down at the soonest convenience it would be Roger, but even he was probably not looking forward to getting himself in such a situation. Brian assumed that this was the reason Roger was quick to obey John and to apologise for his unauthorised halt of actions.

‘I’m sorry, Master.’

‘You better be. And now you just go on until I tell you to stop. Am I clear?’

‘Yes, Master,’ Roger agreed blindly. Brian yelped helplessly when the dildo was forced into him again, and he rocked forward with the force behind the thrust. It took all of his (will)power to retain his balance and not simply letting his body collapse on the mattress beneath him, but knowing that John would probably punish him even more if he would do that, he forced himself to stay his ground and not give in to the punishment that he was sure of would leave him unable to properly sit for at least three days. He could definitely _curse_ Roger for pushing in so hard, but he knew it wasn’t Roger’s fault, nor was it Freddie’s, nor was it John’s; he only had himself to blame for being given this punishment. After all, he had been the one to deliberately disregard one of the fundamental bedroom laws that had been established way before he joined the secret BDSM-community, so as a newcomer to this world, he was the last person to be allowed to cross one of the strictly guarded borders. No, it wasn’t the fault of any of them; he could only blame himself for it. Though in all honesty, he didn’t exactly blame himself for enraging John and provoking punishment from him; he secretly praised himself for doing so.

‘That’s okay for now, Roger, thank you,’ John eventually said, and Brian sighed jerkily when Roger carefully let the sex toy slip out of him, probably knowing by experience how painful a quick removal of a dildo could be after just having been thoroughly plugged up the ass with it.

‘Are you done with him, Master?’ Freddie asked carefully from the sideline, eying Brian’s sweaty body going up and down.

‘Almost. Just a quick spanking to finish it off,’ John told him.

‘Master, please!’ Brian gasped, but John was relentless – he simply grabbed Brian’s wrist to make him land on his front side on the bed, then grabbed his sides to manoeuvre his naked body closer to the edge of the bed so he could deliver the punishment from the place where he was standing. 

‘Five sets will do,’ John said, more to himself than to his victim. Brian however nearly lost it at the thought of having to endure fifty blows against his already badly mistreated bottom, and he objected as much as he thought was safe to John’s painful sounding idea.

‘Please, no!’ he whimpered desperately, ‘Master, please, don’t do that! Not so many-’

‘Objecting? That makes six. Would you like any more?’ John asked bittersweetly, and Brian shook his head feverishly, biting down his bottom lip. The first slap landed and Freddie was ordered to count them out loud for his superior, but Brian could hardly hear the voice of his friend over his own begging whines and the noise ringing in his ears. He writhed around on the bed, until John ordered Freddie to grab his arms and Roger to get a hold of his legs and force them still.

After that, he was unable to do more than wriggling helplessly while John saw no reason at all to go soft on him with his flat hand that stung sharply every time it crashed down on the bare skin of his bottom. Brian soon found that his attempts of straining against the grips of Freddie’s and Roger’s hands on his limbs only made matters worse for him when John extended punishment twice more with another set of ten spanks. By the time he threatened to add a fourth sentence, which would bring the slaps to a total of an even hundred, Brian could already not distinguish one slap from the other anymore; his whole body felt like one collectively throbbing and burning mass, including – especially, rather – his badly neglected cock. When John delivered the last set of ten spanks, Brian was simply bonelessly sprawled out all over the mattress, eyes drawn close and body too weak to move when John put even more force behind his final round of slaps. All he could do was groan in pain and bury his tear-stricken face in the pillows.

‘Forty-seven…’ SMACK! ‘Forty-eight-‘ THWACK! ‘Forty-nine- almost there, Brian. Almost!’ Freddie comforted him. Then the very last blow fell, firm against the lower side of Brian’s bottom where cheek meets thigh, and with a pitiful howl he let his tensed muscles unclench and pressed his face deeper into the pillow. He could hear the heels of John’s platform shoes on the floor, telling him that he was backing away from him to make space for Freddie and Roger. Still, without John’s explicit permission his fellow slaves did not move; their fingers remained closed around his wrists and ankles, until Roger was the one who eventually dared to raise the question.

‘Are you done, Master?’ Roger’s voice was higher than usual.

‘Yes, it’s over. You can go ahead - call me when you need me,’ John allowed, knowing that Freddie and Roger had been waiting for his sign to be allowed to help Brian out. They waited for another second or two for their master to leave the Dungeon and close the door behind him, after which they instantly let go of their manhandled friend and sat down on either side of him, Roger stroking his sweat-slicked back and Freddie massaging his huddled shoulders.

‘Goodness me, Brian! What were you _thinking_?’ Freddie cried, running a soothing hand through his soaking wet curls.

‘I have no idea – ugh…’ Brian moaned when Roger covered his naked lower body with a blanket, just the sheer feeling of fabric against whacked skin making him groan already. He was positive that his buttocks must be redder than the ruby candle wax that had been dripped a mere centimetre next to his private areas as part of his punishment, and the bruises they would form into were likely to become deeply coloured also.

‘Don’t talk - you’ll exhaust yourself,’ said Freddie, who kneaded his shoulders in light, circular movements. ‘Love, get him a glass of water, will you? And maybe a wet towel.’

Roger sprinted out of the room for these requested items, and Freddie continued to rub and massage Brian’s shoulders and upper back while the guitarist helplessly panted into the pillow beneath him. He was terribly sore and out of breath - and although having his fellow slaves darting around him to take care of him in his moment of need was great, he knew that he simply required time and rest more than anything to really recover to a normal pulse and healthy complexion. For now, however, he tried to focus on his breathing and listened dimly to Freddie fussing around him.

‘Oh, this is going to bruise for sure… And you’re still panting like crazy. Damnit, Brian this was the third time this week!’ Brian was dimly aware of being scolded by Freddie for carelessness, and he was glad Freddie could not see the smile tugging at his lips into the pillow. ‘First talking back to our master, then refusing one of his orders, and now being caught not wearing one of the requirements!’ Freddie summed up. ‘You’re playing a dangerous game for sure! Are you suffering from a death wish, my dear?’

_Make that a punishment wish,_ Brian thought dimly, his face retorting in pain when Freddie lifted the blanket and paced a cool yet heavy hand on his left buttock.

‘Really though, what is _wrong_ with you lately? Roger is supposed to be the number one provoker, not you,’ Freddie continued just as the dismissed person returned.

‘You called?’ Roger’s head peeked around the door.

‘Just told Brian that he’ll take your title of biggest provoker if he carries on like this,’ Freddie said. Roger grimaced.

‘I need to step up my game, then.’

‘What if you both behave for a change instead?’ Freddie suggested, patting the empty spot on the mattress next to him. Roger tiptoed back into the bedroom and settled down.

‘Says the guy who has to sleep on the floor for three days for his attitude during a session.’

‘I can’t help it that my voice naturally sounds sarcastic!’ Freddie defended himself.

‘It wasn’t your voice, Fred, and you _know_ it,’ Roger reproached him. ‘Did you honestly think that ‘I can escape this string of rope so easily that it will put Harry Houdini to shame’ was an acceptable answer to John asking you how his new rope skills were working out on you?’

Freddie rolled his eyes. ‘Just give him some water and let me do the rest.’

Brian was dimly aware of Roger kneeling down next to him and bringing up his chin just enough so he could sip from the glass he had brought for him. Brian greedily started gulping it down, but Roger retracted the glass from his lips and tutted at him.

‘Not so fast. The last thing you’ll want now is coughing up your lungs.’ Brian mewled something unintelligible in reply, and Roger sighed. The glass was put back against his lips again and he was given tiny sips of water from it. Freddie, in the meantime, had taken to wiping the sweat off of his back and lower legs; he hummed something to himself as he did so.

‘You’ve seen the lotion, Roger?’

‘Should be in the wardrobe,’ Roger replied without looking up to face Freddie. The frontman darted away and, after having taken a long look at the hopeless amount of bottles and tubes displayed on the shelves, he returned with his item of choice.

‘This should be nice for your skin. Very cooling, if I remember correctly,’ Freddie said. Brian nodded without knowing which item Freddie was talking about, but he trusted him to know what he was doing. Besides, the exact brand or collection didn’t matter too much to him: any sort of crème would help the burning stings torturing the skin of his body and upper thighs subside. He waited somewhat impatiently for Freddie to squirt the substance on his fingers and to rub it in show circles across his palms, which he then, after what felt like an eternity, pressed against the whacked skin.

Brian hissed at the feeling of it. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold of the lotion or the pressure of Freddie’s hand or just the mere concept of contact to his skin in general, but he guessed it had to be a combination of all factors. Roger, who was sitting next to him and must have noticed the pained expression on his face and the way he clamped his fingers into fists around the pillow, placed his hands on his shoulders and massaged them with circular motions of his thumbs. Brian dimly wondered if he did this to comfort him or to keep him steady in one place now that Freddie was touching the most sensitive parts of his thoroughly smacked body.

‘So, there we go,’ Freddie said when he applied the last remains of the lotion to Brian’s lower thighs. It was both a relief and a disappointment to Brian when Freddie’s hands left his body once their task had been completed. Regardless of how painful it was to be touched right when you had been manhandled long and painfully, there was something comforting about having someone take care of you and rub your shoulders when you came back from your high - or low, depending on your view on punishment. That of Brian, at the moment, was more confused than it had ever been before.

Freddie and Roger waited for a few minutes to let the cream do its work. They shared some small talk that Brian did not pick up on, too busy focussing on the feeling of his own body. He gradually felt the burn starting to fade and trade places with the pleasant tingling sensation that would soon spread through his whole body after having been spanked this intensely. Receiving a hundred smacks was painful, yes, but it was not without its rewards.

‘Are you feeling better yet?’ Freddie asked after a handful or so minutes when Brian made the first attempts at rolling over to his side. He nodded as much as his body allowed him to do, and let Freddie and Roger help him turn on his back. He hissed at the feeling of the mattress against his ass, but was soon distracted by Roger pressing the glass of water against his lips again so he could down the remains of it. Freddie in the meantime wiped down the sweat from his chest and the dried candle wax from his lower body, but he stayed clear of Brian’s mildly hard cock. No one wanted to bear the punishment of touching a fellow slave in places only their master was supposed to have full access of.

‘This should be better. All nice and clean,’ Freddie gave Brian a smile, which Brian struggled to return. Roger pulled the fleece blanket back over his body, but upon seeing the redness that continued to coat Brian’s cheeks, he leant in to place a hand on his forehead.

‘You’re burning me up, mate,’ Roger said, withdrawing his hand. ‘Do you even want this blanket?’

‘Hm-hmm,’ Brian mumbled in agreement. ‘I do. ’M cold.’

‘How can you be cold when John literally just gave you the spanking of the century?’ Roger pondered out loud. ‘You should be on fire.’

‘It’s the adrenaline rush fading out, honey,’ Freddie said. He took the blanket from Roger’s hesitant hands and spread them out over Brian’s body. ‘When it builds up your body grows hot very quickly, but when it breaks down again your body temperature drops down to normal.’

Roger, not seeming to know how to react to this piece of medical knowledge Freddie dished out to him, said: ‘I thought Brian was supposed to be the science nerd here.’

‘Someone’s gotta take his place when he’s not up to it,’ Freddie flashed Brian a rare toothy grin, and Brian did his best to smile back. His eyes, his limbs, his body, they all felt terribly heavy now that he was lying there in the middle of the double bed, having had something to drink, his body washed and treated with lotion, a blanket folded around him, and the knowledge that he could always rely on the people around him to take care of him even when he got himself into stupid situations like these.

Freddie, who seemed to notice that he was tired, stood up from the bed. ‘Anything else we can do for you, love?’

Brian thought for a second, then shook his head. His fellow slaves had done all they could have done for him - the rest was his to deal with.

‘Alright, then. We’ll leave you to it,’ Roger said, following Freddie’s example of getting up from the mattress and making his way to the door. ‘Have a moment to think about what you’re going to say to Master John. He’ll probably be in here soon to have a word with you.’

Brian nodded, and waited until the door closed behind his friends to before he allowed himself to sigh deeply. He had a lot to think about indeed. Having been caught not wearing the cock ring which John had personally equipped all of his slaves with the night before was not something Brian was going to be able to explain away too easily. Whatever excuse he came up with was not going to make matters any better for his cause. If he said he’d taken it off because it hurt or made him feel overly embarrassed, he’d be put in his place for not communicating his boundaries to his master; and if he said he’d done it for just a moment and slip it on again later he’d be punished for sneaking around and seeming to think that he could outsmart his superior. What remained was telling John the truth, but this was something he simply could not do. Admitting he had been misbehaving on purpose would defy his entire purpose of convincing John he was ready for more extensive, private punishment through showing rather than through telling.

Even if he did come up with a sensible excuse to explain his unprecedented disobedience, he had too little time to work out a decent plan and figure out answers to follow-up questions that John without a doubt was going to ask him. A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts, and he felt his heart pound in his chest.

‘Yes?’ Brian called.

‘John here. Can I come in?’ The voice sounded faint but familiar from the other side of the door.

‘Yes, of course,’ Brian replied. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled the blanket a little higher above his hips in an attempt to make himself decent for no particular reason at all - John had seen him naked a myriad times before, yet Brian still had the tendency to cover himself when he was faced with his master. The fact that in aftercare John did not come to him in the role of his master but as his equal did not seem to change the situation for Brian.

The door opened to reveal John, still dressed in all black, but with a softer expression on his face now. It gave Brian the tiniest hint of relief as the bassist walked over to the bed. Through heavy-lidded eyes he saw an unidentifiable object tucked under John’s armpit.

‘Hi, love. Have you come down a little?’

Brian nodded carefully, watching how John placed a new glass of water on the bed next to him, and took the thing he had carried with him into his hands.

‘Freddie said you were cold, so I brought you a hot water pouch,’ he explained when he saw Brian eying the object curiously. He moved in closer and lifted up a strip of the fleece blanket, and put the source of heat snugly against the curve between Brian’s hip and ribcage. The knitted cover around the rubber pouch was a little itchy against his naked side, but the heat was nice and comfortable, and Brian moved a bit closer against it. John smiled and sat down on the edge of the mattress, close enough to rub his thumb over Brian’s shimmering forehead to wipe off a remaining drop of sweat.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked his slave.

‘Sore,’ Brian groaned.

‘As you should,’ John grinned, but then his expression turned more serious. ‘But other than that? Any pain somewhere? Muscle ache, headache, anything that might need treatment?’

‘No, ‘m fine. Just cold.’

‘I’ll get you an actual duvet in a second,’ John promised. ‘Furthermore? You need any cream?’ he offered.

‘Freddie already did that.’

‘Great. Mind if I have a look still?’ John asked.

‘Uh- no, go ahead,’ Brian said, although he did blush a little as John helped him roll over to his belly again. Sure, it was common practice for his fellow slaves and him to give aftercare to each other if one of them got punished, and then have their master come up to said person afterwards to finish up any work that might need to be done still, and have a little chat with them. Brian personally enjoyed being taken care of by Freddie and Roger, or being able to take care of them, if they had earned themselves a sentence of some sort, rather than having John do it himself. Perhaps it had something to do with feeling odd when John switched from being their sadistic Dungeon master to soft caretaker in the matter of a minute, or maybe it was just the moment of bonding with his equals. At any rate, Brian was happy with their arrangement, but could not prevent a blush creeping up his cheeks when he felt John pulling the blanket down to the back of his knees to have a good look at the damage he’d brought upon his body.

John indeed took a good look, Brian assumed - he certainly took his time, at any rate. Brian tried to distract himself from the idea of John’s eyes preening his discoloured bottom and swollen upper thighs by trying to count to a hundred in Spanish, but much to his disappointment and embarrassment he did not make it any further than sixteen. He then focussed on his breathing and tried not to make any sound when John’s fingers ghosted over the curve of his ass - something he did not succeed in when John’s hand slipped between his buttocks to check if plugging him up the ass had left any serious damage.

‘All seems to be in order,’ was eventually John’s conclusion when he’d finished checking Brian’s thighs and lower back, after Brian had been turned around to his original position again. Perhaps not so much his original position - one that had him lean more on his side than his back, as was explained by the advice John was about to offer him. ‘But you might want to avoid lying on your back for too long or sitting on a wooden chair for the upcoming days.’

‘Yes, Master,’ Brian said obediently.

‘Good boy. I’ll get you another blanket.’ John leant in to press a kiss on his forehead, and then stood up to leave the room. Brian could follow the sound of platform heels clicking against the laminated floor of the hallway and the bedroom next door; he heard John going through a closet and then returning to the Dungeon again.

‘So, this should keep you warm,’ John said, spreading out an old-fashioned patched quilt on top of the fleece blanket. He tucked the sides of it below the mattress, and gave the shoulder that still poked out from underneath the quilt a comforting rub. ‘All good?’

‘Perfect,’ Brian said.

‘Great. Can I sit down for a second?’

‘Of course, Master,’ Brian agreed. He was used to John staying a little longer whenever one of them had been singled out for punishment - to talk to them and to comfort them, to tell them they had been forgiven and yet to sternly admonish them to behave better in the future.

‘No need to call me Master now,’ John said. ‘I’ve got a few questions to ask you, not as a Master and slave but as equals, want you to be open and honest to me.’

‘Eh- okay, Master. John,’ Brian corrected himself. But before he could get himself used to the more casual setting John was apparently aiming for, John’s straight-forward question to him made him pale despite the lingering flush on his cheek.

‘Why are you doing this?’

Brian’s eyes grew wide as he looked at his Master, but he could get no further explanation from the face of the man sitting next to him on the mattress. John’s expression remained completely neutral, and Brian’s mind spun to put this question into context.

‘Ex-excuse me?’ Brian asked, even though he had a feeling he knew where this was heading. He turned out to be right when John explained himself.

‘Being disobedient like this. First talking back to me, then refusing to do your domestic chores - which isn’t even part of the Dungeon per se, but just part of living together under the same roof with four people,’ he said sternly, ‘and then not wearing the cock ring I told you to wear. I’d like to know why, because it’s not like you.’

In the heat of the moment - the tension of having one’s master ask one to explain oneself to him, and the stress of being unable to come up with a reasonable answer that would not give away his hopes for a private session with John - Brian felt himself grow a little giddy and ask: ‘Is it not?’

In a Dungeon session, he now would have slammed a hand across his mouth and beg his master to forgive him for his improper reply. However, as they were outside their Dungeon headspace, Brian simply waited for John for a reply to this question.

‘It’s not, and you know that,’ John said in a mildly chastising tone that made Brian face away from him. ‘Freddie can be haughty, Roger can be bratty, but you’re not like that. You’re much too good to tease and misbehave as they do.’

‘Maybe I’m not as good as you think,’ Brian shrugged.

‘You want to know what I think?’ John asked. Then, without waiting for Brian’s response, he added: ‘I think you did it on purpose.’

‘Sorry- _what_?’ Brian stammered out, feeling the blood rush to his ears now that John had correctly guessed what he’d been up to in just one go. If he would also guess his intentions behind misbehaving on purpose, Brian was sure he’d die of embarrassment.

‘You heard me,’ John told him sternly. ‘I think you misbehaved on purpose and hope we’ll notice.’

‘Why would I- do that?’ Brian asked him sheepishly.

‘You tell me,’ John said. ‘Perhaps to get attention. Perhaps to show Freddie and Roger that you’re one of them. Perhaps to support them in teasing me to show them where your sympathies are. Come across a little bolder than they know you to be,’ he summed up. ‘I can keep listing reasons why you might do this, but I think it’d be better that you tell me what you’ve been doing lately.’

Brian opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He felt more than a little embarrassed to find himself stuck in this conversation with John. His goal with misbehaving was to be singled out by John to receive private punishment without the others buzzing around them, not to be sat down to have a talk about his attitude lately. Then again, perhaps he should have known better than to expect John to just go with it right away; the bassist, both as their friend and their bandmate and their master, always seemed to be able to read them like an open book. And, in the rare case that he did not instinctively know what was troubling them, he’d take them apart for a chat like the one Brian was currently finding himself stuck in.

‘Come on, Baby,’ John said, leaving Brian unsure whether he used this nickname as a form of endearment, or as his slave name in the Dungeon. ‘You can tell me. I won’t look down on you, and I won’t think any less of you if you’ve been trying to impress the others.’

‘I didn’t do it for them, or to be noticed,’ Brian mumbled, threading his fingers into a loose thread from the patched blanket. He had a feeling that it was gonna be little use keeping the truth from John, so he took a deep breath and admitted: ‘I just- I… wanted you to see me misbehave.’

John was silent for a second or so. ‘Why?’

‘Because I- felt like- ugh, this is awkward,’ Brian said, covering his face in his hands. The words were on the tip of his tongue, and yet he could not get himself to pronounce them out loud.

‘It’s okay. Take your time.’ John leant back in his spot a bit as if to give him space, but his eyes did not stray away from Brian, who by now massaged his forehead with his fingertips.

‘I just- I hoped you’d punish me,’ Brian mumbled. He waited for John to either remain silent for a long time, or to indignantly ask why on earth he would do this - wasn’t he strict enough to him in the Dungeon? Did he need tougher sentences and longer exposure to his dominance? - but neither of these happened. In fact, John did not blink an eye or skip a beat.

‘As I did. And yet you don’t seem satisfied yet, because you’ve been misbehaving on purpose thrice within a week. Which tells me you were looking for more still,’ John said with an audible question mark behind his last sentence. He was obviously waiting for Brian to tell him more, which he did.

‘I was hoping… you’d take me apart,’ Brian said, as softly as before. ‘For a private session.’

Now John was silent for a second or two before repeating the request. ‘A private session.’

‘Yes. Like- when Freddie or Roger misbehave, and you tell them to come to your room or to the Dungeon on their own so you can - can focus on punishing them with all of your attention,’ Brian explained, pulling at the loose thread to avoid having to look at John.

‘I know what a private session is, I was the one to introduce them to you,’ John said, but there was no malice or sarcasm in his voice. Rather, he seemed surprised by what his subordinate was asking of him; seemed to be trying to wrap his head around the idea of Brian, his newest and usually most obedient slave, asking him for a private punishment session. ‘I just didn’t think you’d be ready yet.’

‘I am,’ Brian said, then corrected himself: ‘I mean - I think I am.’

‘Do you know what happens in private sessions?’ John asked.

Brian paused for a beat. ‘Er… Well, I know what Freddie and Roger told me about it,’ he admitted.

‘Which is?’

Brian blew air out through his mouth. He had never been particularly comfortable with talking about sex or punishment, let alone a combination of the two. But if he wanted to convince John that he could handle being alone with him, then he had to step up and show it.

‘That it usually takes place in your bedroom, or in the Dungeon, in the evening, and the others are told to stay away. Then you’ll usually- eh, restrain us with the usual tools and punish us for bad behaviour. Sometimes you’ll also use other forms of punishment, like Deep Heat or ice cubes, or leave someone hanging for a while. And sometimes there’s sex involved, but it’s more- more destined to teach a lesson,’ Brian managed. He looked up at his master’s face and was met with what seemed to him a look of moderate approval.

‘About right,’ John nodded. ‘It’s also more intense, because unlike normal sessions, I won’t have to switch between all three of you. You have my full and undivided attention, which may not be as good as it sounds. You realise that?’

‘Yes, Master.’ Brian didn’t bother to correct himself this time for calling John by his formal title; the strict tone in which he spoke was something he simply associated with the Dungeon.

‘And you think you’re ready for that?’ John asked him just as sternly.

‘I think so, yes,’ Brian said. Then, realising that this might not come across as determined as he wanted to sound like, he added: ‘I know I’m ready for it.’

John looked at him with a hint of doubt on his face, but he eventually gave in. ‘Well, you know yourself best. And because I mean to encourage you showing me your limits and desires, I’ll allow it.’

Brian felt his heart skip a beat in anxious excitement. ‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ John confirmed. ‘If you still want to, you can come to my room at nine tonight.’

‘I do want that. I’d _love_ that.’

‘You _will_ be punished, though,’ John reminded him.

‘I know,’ Brian said, unable to wash the smile from his face. He had accomplished his goal - not in the way he had originally planned to achieve it, but it turned out that many roads led the way to Rome. He was going to have his private session with John that night, and he knew he was ready for it.

‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,’ John said as he stood up from the bed. ‘You need to get some sleep and strengthen up, because I’m _not_ going to be easy on you tonight,’ he warned. Brian felt his cock stir slightly at these words, and he nodded obediently. John pressed one more kiss against his forehead, tucked the duvets tighter around his previously exposed shoulders, and walked to the door of the room. Just before he left, he turned around one more time.

‘And Brian?’

‘Yes?’

‘Bring a pillow with you to dinner,’ John instructed. ‘You’ll be sitting at my feet eating that mushy broccoli we’ve got left from last night.’

Brian was not exactly excited about the prospect of his upcoming meal, but something trivial like this could not suppress the sense of accomplishment he felt. ‘Yes, Master.’

‘Now drink some more water and go to sleep. We’ll wake you at dinnertime.’

The lights were turned off, the door was closed behind him, and Brian sighed contentedly. His first session with his master and no one else around was going to be upon him in a matter of hours, and he couldn’t be more excited. He took the glass of water for a few more sips, as he had been instructed by his superior, and then carefully turned around to get himself settled for a nap. It did not take long before the darkness pulled him into a world filled with promises of what was to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! Here is the second part of One Of My Turns, in which Brian decides it’s time to take matters into his own hands when he finds his Master being too careful with him. It goes down both well and not so well at the same time ;)
> 
> Sorry it took a bit longer than expected to upload the finale - I’m so stupid I literally forgot I posted Part A, and it took an anon on Tumblr asking me when Part B would be up for me to realise I had, in fact, posted part of this already, ahem. Anyway here it is!!

The next time Brian opened his eyes, it was because Roger was inserting his finger in his side to poke him awake. Somewhere at the edge of his dizzying haze of sleepiness Brian understood that it was dinnertime and that Roger had been sent to the Dungeon to come and fetch Brian. He was hauled out of bed with little regard to keeping the duvet covering his nakedness in place, and more than that, with little regard to his painfully stiff and sore body. The pain hit him like a brick as he was hauled to his feet by Roger, and it was at that moment that everything came back to Brian. The deliberate disobedience, having been caught, John recruiting his fellow slaves to punish him as he had never done before - the pain, the pleasure, and yet the insatiable longing for more that would not leave Brian as he had drifted off. More importantly, he recalled John coming down to check on him after Freddie and Roger had given him aftercare; the questions John had posed to him, and having admitted that he wanted private sessions with John. His master agreeing and telling him to come see him in his room at nine that evening.

Right. There was a lot to unpack just there, but Brian was not given the time. Both Roger and he knew that their master was not keen on being left to wait, and that they had to hurry upstairs to join him at the dinner table - or the floor beneath it - as soon as possible.

Acting accordingly, Brian fixed the duvet around his waist and set out to pick up the jeans, trousers, and boxers that had been discarded to the floor at the beginning of the Dungeon session. Bending down caused unspeakable uneasiness - especially in his behind - and it soon turned out that he had put his body in that position for nothing.

Eyeing Brian while he tried to step into his boxers with the duvet still around his waist, Roger asked: ‘What are you doing?’

‘Getting dressed?’ Brian answered doubtfully.

‘You have to eat dinner on the floor, right?’ Roger asked with a nod down at the pillow he was carrying. Brian nodded. ‘Don’t bother then. Eating dinner at John’s feet for punishment is always done naked.’

‘Right,’ Brian mumbled, feeling himself colour a little as he put his underwear back down. It was not so much that he minded being naked in the presence of his master and fellow slaves; it was just the fact that the rest of them would be dressed, sitting at the table, enjoying a normal meal, while he had to sit naked at John’s feet with a plate full of mashed cauliflower or whatever it was John had told him would make up his meal for that night. It would be embarrassing and belittling, but Brian knew he deserved it. He had misbehaved badly - and besides, he had little to complain about. It was his first time being handed out this sort of punishment, true, and he was nervous, sure, but Freddie and Roger were sentenced to eating plain soggy rice on the floor multiple times a week as a result of their misbehaving. He could do this. Of course he could do this - if he was willingly doing to drag himself into John’s bedroom for a private punishment session he had requested himself, then surely he could deal with the embarrassment of eating naked on the floor.

Brian, fuelled by his own attempt of encouraging himself, untucked the duvet and placed it back on the bed. He arranged it carefully - both because he didn’t want more punishment for having left The Dungeon in a state of disarray, and to be able to turn his back on a fully clothed Roger for a little longer. Roger seemed to sense his uneasiness, though; when Brian turned around to face him at last, his friend patted his shoulder.

‘It’s gonna be fine. John knows this is your first time - he won’t be too harsh on you.’ Brian was unsure if Roger was referring to eating on the floor or if he had been informed about the upcoming private session between John and him, but he appreciated the words nonetheless.

With Roger’s hand on the small of his back - a weird feeling, since Brian was clearly the taller and stronger of the two - they made their way to the kitchen, where Freddie was levelling the pans from the stove onto the table, and where John was laying out the plates and cutlery. The chair next to John’s had been removed, and as if this wasn’t evidence enough of Brian’s upcoming fate, John locked eyes with him as he put down one of the cream coloured plates on the floor.

‘Off you go, then,’ Roger said softly, pushing the pillow into his hands. Brian, casting his eyes down from the gazes of his friends, crouched down on the floor, put the pillow next to John’s chair, and lowered himself down on it.

‘Ouch, that’s going to bruise up badly, daring,’ Freddie remarked when he walked by with another pan just when Brian was in the process of sitting down. Brian, unsure of how to reply to this, nodded quickly without looking up at his friend. Freddie proved to be just as mindful of his situation as Roger, fortunately; he returned with the last pan left on the stove, and crouched down in front of Freddie.

‘I cooked you broccoli, dear. It’s not going to be very tasty, but it should be nutritious at least. if I didn’t overcook it to the point of destruction...’ Freddie mused as he shovelled the mushy green vegetables onto Brian’s plate. ‘Which, in my defence, was what I was ordered to do. It’s not my bad cooking skills for a change.’

‘John literally picked you to cook it because he knew you’d fuck up regardless of what orders he gave you,’ Roger piped up, and Brian could hear John snort behind him. Freddie laughed too, but Brian himself was a bit too nervous to join them, so he waited in silence until the overcooked broccoli was forming a heap on his plate.

The pan was put away, and Brian felt a hand patting his curls. ‘Good luck, honey,’ Freddie told him, before he rose to his feet and joined the others at the table, leaving Brian alone on the floor and unsure of what to do or how to behave. Was he supposed to start eating yet, or wait until he’d be given a sign? Should he eat this with his hands, as there was no cutlery down here? What would happen if he didn’t eat all of it?

Luckily, John came as a source of answers to all these questions. Brian felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned and looked at John, towering above him from his position on the chair. Brian looked down again, but was ordered to look at John immediately after.

‘Here’s your cutlery, Baby,’ John told him. Brian meekly took the knife and fork from his master with a silently mouthed thankyou. ‘Now listen. We’re going to take this easy for your first time. No ropes or collars or harnesses - I trust you to stay seated where you are. You don’t have to eat all of this, but you have to realise that this is the only food you’ll get tonight, so choose wisely.’ The last comment was clearly a nudge at the upcoming Dungeon session, for which Brian knew he would need some energy. With this in mind, he took to the plate in front of him and started digging in.

… Digging in was, perhaps, a bit too enthusiastic a phrase. The mere sight of the overcooked broccoli with its yellow-brownish haze over it repelled Brian before he could even take a bite, and that was leaving out the stale smell of it. Putting his fork into the vegetables made a nearly sopping sound that made him gag silently, and he could hardly get a grip on the small, slippery trunks as they slid from the prongs of his fork back into the heap. It was a 180-degree difference from the chicken broccoli casserole they were enjoying at the table, but Brian knew that lingering on that for too long would only make it harder to eat his own food. Blocking out all of his thoughts, he scooped a few trunks of broccoli onto his spoon and took them into his mouth.

The mushy texture made him want to spit it out right away, but he forced himself to chew - even though chewing was hardly the right word when the vegetables fell apart in his mouth at the mere touch of his molars. A handful of movements of his jaw rendered the previously separate trunks of broccoli into one big mash of overcooked pulp, ready to be swallowed down; something that proved easier said than done. With one hand on his own throat, Brian practically gagged on the terrible meal, and he could hardly oppress a few extra swallows in an attempt to get the taste out of his mouth.

‘You okay there, love?’ There was a hand on his head and John’s voice sounded sympathetic - empathetic, even. Brian nodded in response.

‘Yes, Master. Thank you.’

‘Good boy’. The hand carded through his curls, and Brian bravely parted his lips for another mouthful of the dreaded substance, and again, and again. The taste did not exactly get better, and neither did the texture, but he got better at swallowing it down without gagging or spluttering. Halfway through the heap he struggled to keep it all down, but John, seeming to see him fighting with his food, ordered Freddie to get him a glass of water. Brian thankfully accepted it and drank about half of it to oppress the nausea the overcooked broccoli was giving him. John told him to take his time, and so Brian did; the others patiently waited at the table for him to finish up even when he took nearly fifteen minutes longer before he eventually decided he’d had enough. He announced his ‘decision’ to leave the remaining quarter or so of the broccoli for what it was, to which John easily consented, and allowed Brian to stand back up again. His slave did as he was told, but took his glass with him. With the remainder of the water he washed away the lingering bits of broccoli that had gathered behind his teeth, and sighed a deep, shivery sigh in relief that this was _over_.

‘Look at you! You did it!’ There was applause coming from both Freddie and Roger, and John was wearing a look of contentment on his face.

‘Good job, Baby. You’ve really shown you were ready for the next steps,’ John concluded coolly. Brian beamed - he knew exactly what John meant by that. Freddie and Roger - judging from their mysterious ‘oooohs’ and ‘aaaaahs’ - seemed unaware of the events planned between their master and him later that night, and Brian didn’t mind keeping it that way. This was to be a private session between John and him, after all.

Keeping the private session a strictly private affair proved a bit more difficult than expected, though. Brian remembered John’s order of meeting him in his bedroom at nine o’clock all too well, but after dinner they were dragged into the living room by Freddie and Roger to finish their game of Scrabble. Brian hardly minded - he was keen to beat Freddie after the latter’s crime of putting down the 124 point word ‘zygote’, and besides, they only would have attracted the suspicions of the others if they had snuck away to the bedroom at seven o’clock. However, now that it was half-past eight and they were squished together on the sofa for a repeat episode of Freddie’s favourite soap opera (and Roger’s primary source of amusement by poking fun at) _Coronation Street_ , Brian was starting to feel a bit worried. John had not shown any sign of getting up and getting ready for their session, and he knew that if both of them left too close to each other it would look suspicious. He restlessly tapped his fingers on the armrest of the sofa for at least five consecutive minutes, before the mid-episode break just at the point of a lame cliffhanger in the form of the doorbell ringing was called in. His eyes met with those of John as his master stretched out his arms and announced his department as casually as possible.

‘I’m gonna go to my room. See if I can add some more lyrics to that song I came up with the other day,’ John said, hoisting himself off the couch.

‘Ahw, you don’t want to wait and see how it’s obviously going to be Ridgeley at that door to declare his love for Amanda even though she cheated on him?’ Roger asked sarcastically, which earned him a slap from Freddie who obviously couldn’t wait to see that exact moment going down.

John chuckled. ‘I’d rather not. See you later, folks. I might be back later tonight, depending on what happens.’ His eyes me Brian’s for another shot moment, and Brian hoped the others wouldn’t see him averting his blushing face.

‘So either he’s going to be back in five, or he’ll come out tomorrow afternoon with thirty-six unfinished projects,’ Roger said once John had left the room.

‘Alternatively, he’ll finish the one song at one o’clock and he wakes us all up to tell us,’ Freddie said. ‘Anyone want something to drink? I bought some Fanta today.’

Brian nodded in agreement, relieved that neither of his fellow slaves seemed to notice the tension going on between John and him. He was glad that John seemed not to have told the others about their upcoming session; if they had known, they would have circled around Brian to both ask and tell him everything about what he had done and how he could best behave while in John’s bedroom. While Brian would not have been averse to getting a bit of advice, he at the moment preferred venting for himself over having his friends crawl all over him.

Freddie returned from the kitchen and handed him a glass of Fanta, which Brian accepted with a smile. He sipped his soda and flicked through the TV guide while the commercial break rolled out on the TV before him, until Freddie poked him hard enough to make him spill Fanta over his bare leg and the sofa to let him know the series had come on again. He was given no time to clean any of it up, though; Freddie clung to his arm while the female lead walked to the door and opened it to indeed reveal the lover she had wronged on the doorstep to talk to her. Brian kept his eyes on the clock next to the TV while a long dialogue between the two unfolded, interspersed with countless flashbacks of earlier scenes he could not remember nor care for in the current setting. The timing neared nine o’clock, and with the conversation nowhere near finished, he was afraid he would not be able to leave the living room and present himself at John’s door at nine sharp. He carefully eyed the TV guide again, and saw that the programme was supposed to end at nine exactly. He bit his lower lip; this would make getting to John’s bedroom in time tricky already, but on top of that, the episode was likely to take longer. He sighed a bit frustratedly and stared at the screen with his chin resting on his hand.

Two to nine. Should he try and make his excuses? He might look stupid, but he didn’t want to risk being late for his appointment with John either. Maybe he should just risk it…

‘I think I’m gonna go, guys,’ Brian said carefully. Roger snickered - obviously envying him for simply making his getaway while he was gonna be stuck to watch the ending of Coronation Street with Freddie - but Freddie was less forgiving.

‘What? You can’t leave now! Ridgeley is gonna give Amanda an ultimatum!’ Freddie argued. Brian sighed - this was exactly what he had been afraid of. It was silly to leave now, but what else was he supposed to do?

‘If we already know that, then why do I have to sit through this?’ Brian argued sensibly. ‘Besides, I’m really tired. I just want to go to bed.’ He felt a bit guilty for lying to his best friends, but he did not see any other options to take his leave right now.

‘Killjoy,’ Freddie pouted, but Roger was more sympathetic towards him.

‘Leave him, Fred. He’s had a tough day today. You’d be tired, too.’

Freddie had a look at Brian and grinned. ‘He wouldn’t have had a tough day if he wouldn’t have been disobedient to Deaky in the most obvious ways possible.’

Brian felt his cheeks warming up, but Roger came to his rescue. ‘You’re not in any position to make comments on that, Mercury.’

‘Touché,’ Freddie admitted, but he would not let go of the arm he had locked his hands around upon the start of the post-break part of the episode. Brian was effectively still trapped on the sofa, and the clock audibly struck nine. _Fuck._

‘I’d like to go, Freddie,’ Brian said softly. ‘I’m really tired, and this episode will be on repeat tomorrow morning anyway. You watch it with Roger.’ Freddie pouted at him, but eventually let him go; and, a bit to Brian’s annoyance, not even because he’d convinced him, but because the episode had ended and the credits were rolled out on the black screen. Freddie thanked him for staying, and Brian replied that he was welcome without too much enthusiasm, before getting up, turning around, and making it to the door. He closed it behind him without a word of goodbye; instead, he leant against the wall and ran a hand through his messy curls. He was a bit annoyed at Freddie, but more than that, he was excited and jittery and anxious about what would be waiting for him at the other side of the door of John’s bedroom. He was very much aware that he had been bad that morning, and that he was later than anticipated - and that John, apart from this, had told him that private sessions were simply bound to be intense. Brian felt a wave of excitement and nerves in his stomach, and tiptoed over to John’s bedroom at the very end of the hallway.

Standing in front of it, he hardly took a few seconds before knocking. In any other situation he probably would have preferred to take a second to close his eyes, consider what he was going to say, and console himself towards all possible bad scenarios. Now, there was hardly any time to do more than say a prayer before a faint ‘come in’ sounded from the other side of the wall.

With his stomach a knot of nerves and his knees slightly shaky below him, Brian placed a hand on the doorknob and pushed the door open. He kept his eyes on the floor as he entered the room and shut the door behind him; only after he had completed this task did he dare look up at his surroundings.

It was the first time he had been in John’s bedroom since they had made the arrangements that granted John the master bedroom - a fitting room for his role within their BDSM scene - and it surprised him how such an average bedroom could possess such a Dungeon-like vibe. Sure, there were no dark brick walls or velvety red carpet clothing the floor or large crystal chandeliers coming down from the ceiling, but the navy curtains and wood coloured walls gave the room a dark atmosphere nonetheless. More than that, the overhead lights had been dimmed, and the room was lit by large dark candles in several places only. These, together with the nightstand lights gave off enough light for Brian to see the entire room, but it gave off an eerie vibe all the more.

Still more eerie than the atmosphere, however, was the figure of John displayed in his dark jeans and v-collared shirt against the cream coloured duvet and pillows. He was perched on the side of the high head- and footboarded king-sized bed, and stayed perfectly still when Brian at first entered the room. He regarded Brian, surely; he drank in the sight of him, but he did not acknowledge his presence in any other way, which made Brian a bit uncomfortable and unsure of what to do in the awfully quiet room. The only sound and motion to be detected were the crackling and flickering of the candle flames, until John at last ascended from the bed. His platform heels clattered on the floor, and Brian swallowed heavily when John halted next to the footboard of the bed, even though this was easily one and a half metre away from him. He could not touch him like this, but he did not need to touch Brian to scare him - just his voice would do.

John’s eyes travelled up and down Brian’s naked body, until he eventually rested them on Brian’s face. ‘You’re late,’ he spoke plainly - the exact words Brian had been afraid to hear.

‘I’m sorry, Master. I had to wait ’till the end of the episode as to not look... suspicious...’ Brian offered as an explanation, but John putting one hand slightly forward was enough to make his sentence trail off towards the end, knowing his explanation was not appreciated or even supposed to be stated.

‘That was a statement, Baby, not an opportunity to make excuses for yourself,’ John said sternly. Brian felt a bit stupid. John was not interested in his excuses, and he should have known this. The order had been to be on time, and he had failed this order - that was all there was to it.

Brian folded his hands and looked down. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Come again?’ John’s voice was low but sharp, and Brian immediately realised what he had done wrong unintentionally.

‘I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry,’ Brian corrected himself, but something told him that he was just adding fuel to the fire this way. John’s reply just confirmed his suspicions.

‘You’re not all too obedient today, are you?’ John raised one inquisitive but most of all unimpressed eyebrow, and Brian felt himself shiver under the sheer power the man had over him. He wanted to obey him, to please him, to impress him - getting off on the wrong foot as clumsily as he was currently doing was not at all part of his plan, and he felt utterly embarrassed and small under John’s judgemental gaze. The excitement for his first session was still there, but the nerves and jitteriness had definitely taken over by now, now that he was finding himself knee-deep in trouble before they had even kicked off the session properly.

‘I’m- I’m sorry, Master. I promise to behave better from now on,’ Brian said, honestly but feebly, knowing all too well that this would not be able to make up for the missteps he had made before.

‘Do you now?’ John asked. Brian was tempted to hear it as sarcastic, but this was not entirely right - it was reservation, rather than sarcasm. It sounded as if John would like to believe him, but wanted to see it before he would be able to take his word for it.

‘Yes, Master. I want to obey you in all- all you tell me,’ Brian said, feeling nearly hypnotised when John looked at him with those intense dark eyes.

‘Then why don’t you bend over the edge of the bed, and let me take apart your behaviour of just now,’ John said with a single tap on the mahogany footboard of the bed he was standing next to. Brian swallowed heavily, but replied in the affirmative and stepped forwards. In his platform heels, John was almost as tall as he was; and in his mind, he practically towered over Brian as the latter placed his hands on the edge of the bed. It was hot, it was exciting, it made Brian tingly and warm inside, and he hoisted himself up slightly to position himself across the footboard. Its surface was not too broad - two inches perhaps - but it was strong and stable, and dug a bit painfully into Brian’s rib cage. Perhaps he should hoist himself a bit higher up, or maybe he should just reposition himself-

Before he could make a decision on what to do, he felt a strong hand on either side of his middle, which pulled him further over the footboard until he was practically canted over it, legs dangling multiple inches above the floor. He steadied himself on his hands on the mattress just in time - that was, just before a painful _SMACK!_ that sent him gasping landed on his still terribly sensitive bottom.

‘You’re more stable with your lower abdomen across the footboard. Which you’ll _need_ ,’ John whispered dangerously close to his ear, before he circled the bed. Brian grunted in the pain and excitement of it all.

‘When we first agreed for a private session for tonight, my plan was not to spank you, seeing as I’d already dragged you through plenty of that this morning,’ John said casually, and Brian felt two single fingers trailing over the curve of his ass. ‘But as of now, I see little other options besides smacking some sense back into you.’ _THWACK!_ Brian groaned and panted already after two mere slaps; he had gone through more than a hundred slaps just that morning, and his ass was not at all prepared for a new round of applause, as a matter of speaking. John snorted above him, likely over how pathetic he must have come across. It was both the biggest embarrassment as the biggest turn-on to Brian.

‘Let’s have a look at the evidence stacked against you, hm?’ John sad bittersweetly. ‘Being late to start off with, for example.’ The hand came down across Brian’s buttocks again, which made him release a shuddery gasp. ‘Making excuses. Not addressing me with the right title, and then making apologies again.’ Each of the accusations was punctuated with a smack to the underside of his bottom, the part where ass meets thigh, and it had Brian gritting his teeth in pain. It was the exact spot where earlier that day John had also not exactly gone easy on him, and getting a second assault aimed at this specific part of his body was painful to say the least.

Another slap came down, and then John stopped to rub the bright red skin of Brian’s bottom, waited for him to fall quiet again after a series of low moans and grunts so he would hear loudly and clearly what he had to say. Despite the time he was given, Brian was still panting a little when John spoke.

‘You know what I think about apologies, Brian,’ John said calmly yet condemnatorily - a combination that made Brian shiver.

‘Yes, Master.’

A slap to his left buttock followed, and Brian groaned. ‘Tell me.’

‘They’re- they’re weak attempts to escape responsibility and avoid punishment.’

‘Exactly.’ John’s voice was sweet like liquid honey; a huge contrast to the sharp smack his hand delivered to Brian’s bottom that sent Brian howling. He was so sore, so oversensitive still from his earlier punishment, and yet he loved being dragged through more.

‘And what’s the only way to make up to me?’

‘By undergoing… the punishment you lay out for me, Master,’ he panted.

‘Mhm,’ John agreed wordlessly. Another slap came down to his butt - first on the left buttock, then on the right, and then across both of them. It felt as if his ass had been set on fire.

Luckily for him, this seemed to be the final spank for the time being; when John’s hand returned to his bottom, it was merely to trail his fingers over the heated skin and leave a pinch here and there.

‘So, talking about punishment…’ John said leisurely, squeezing a handful of Brian’s right buttock in his hand and awaiting the shuddery groan it drew from his subject. ‘I’d spank you for an hour, but you’ve already gone through that today. I doubt you could handle much more,’ John said - a testimony to the fact that despite his hunger to make his slaves pay, he always remained on top of what was responsible and reasonable to do in accordance to what they could be pulled through. ‘More than that, you’ve already made me have to spank you so much earlier this day that my hand is too sore to give you much more. Would you believe that?’ John bent in closer to Brian, his hand now travelling up his spine. ‘Four years of experience as a dungeon master, and you come along and ruin my hand. Such a bad, _bad_ boy you are.’ John was close to Brian now; half draped over his back, he squeezed the overheated flesh of his bottom with one hand, and his mouth was close enough to his ear to make Brian shiver.

‘What should I do with you, then?’ John pondered out loud, hand kneading Brian’s oversensitive ass.

‘Hng,’ Brian choked out gracelessly. He knew exactly what the answer was in broad terms - his master should punish him, that was - but more detailed than that he could not do at the time being. In the foggy mist of his mind he could not outline any particular form of punishment, and even if he could, he would be too awkward to speak his mind. Dirty talking, or even properly responding to dirty talking of his master, was something he had to work on; he hoped, however, that John didn’t mind that he would save this as a lesson for later, and would now plainly accept when he stuttered out a helpless: ‘you should- you should punish me, Master.’

John seemed okay with that answer, fortunately. _‘God_ knows I should,’ he said in agreement, giving Brian’s ass one more painfully tight squeeze before he removed his body from his. ‘Get on the bed on your back,’ he ordered from seemingly out of nowhere. Brian felt his heart jump; this looked to him like the sign that things were really about to go down.

Brian made an attempt at pushing his body, which had canted over the footboard of the bed with his legs dangling above the floor, up from the bed with the help of his hands. John had other plans for him, though.

‘Push yourself over the footboard,’ he told him, and gave him a push that effectively made Brian’s arms give in on him and caused him to collapse headfirst on the mattress, his chest heaving against the duvets. Still, he managed to pull himself together relatively quickly, uttered and obedient ‘yes, Master’, and pushed his legs over the footboard to join the rest of his body on the other side. It was awkward, it was graceless, and knowing that John was watching him as he manoeuvred his naked body over the bedframe and down on the mattress did not make things much better for Brian. He reached the desired spot and position after some crawling and wriggling, however, and ended up lying on his back in the middle of the bed. The feeling of his ass on the mattress was uncomfortable, but it was a lot better than having it at the mercy of his master, who could spank or squeeze or pinch it at his heart’s desire.

Now that John could not leave his marks on his bottom, however, he wasted no time in getting Brian ready for whatever sort of replacement punishment he had in mind for him. Brian had hardly been able to find himself a comfortable position on the mattress when the first demands were issued.

‘Put your hands up against the headboard,’ his master ordered as he turned around to the wardrobe closet. Brian reached his arms over his head and against the headboard, and cautiously eyed his superior while he rummaged through the contents of a particular box on one of the lower shelves of the closet. Before he knew it John had gathered what he needed and closed the door behind him, and Brian focussed his eyes on the ceiling above him.

John returned to the bed and laid out several items on the mattress - items Brian did not dare to look at out of fear of being seen as too eager or mischievous. He had a feeling he knew just about what to expect, though; the usual nipple clamps, rope, and cock ring, in addition to whatever items John deemed fit for this particular session. He figured he would find out what these would be soon enough.

‘Hands _against each other_ on the headboard, darling. Makes it a bit easier to tie them up, don’t you agree?’ John snickered. Brian blushed and brought his hands together at the wrists, after which they were immediately circled with a shiny red satin rope, secured with a double knot, and fastened against the headboard with an intricate rope pattern that ran through the wooden carvings of the mahogany bed frame multiple times.

‘I love tying you up, Baby,’ John remarked halfway through. ‘So vulnerable and helpless as you look. All at my command. All _mine_.’

Brian looked into those possessive eyes, and found himself shiver in fear and anticipation. ‘Yes, Master. I’m all yours.’ John stroke his cheek with a calloused and experienced finger, before he pulled back and felt at the rope around his slave’s wrists to make sure it was secure but not enough so to oppress the blood flow. When all seemed in order, he presented Brian with a black satin sash. The fabric was strained tightly between his fists, and Brian knew exactly what it was for.

‘So sorry to have to cover those beautifully fearful eyes of yours. I would have loved to look at them while I whack you into submission,’ John spoke, and Brian heard the most choked-up moan passing his lips. ‘But you’ve been too bad to be given the privilege of seeing your punishment before you get it. You’re gonna be left in the dark and just _feel_ it when it gets to you.’ With that, the sash was fastened around Brian’s eyes to successfully deprive him of his sight and leave him to the mercy of his master even more than he already had been before.

After the blindfold, Brian could no longer see what was done to his body, but he could feel it all the more. The clothespins that were clamped around his nipples made him hiss in pain - especially when John came back to readjust them multiple times, most likely just to tease and punish him more than for any other reason - and then there was the long-awaited cock ring. Cold and sterile, it was pulled around his half-hard dick until it snugly fit around his cock and balls. Brian bit his lip to oppress any sounds of neediness while John’s hands worked around his cock, but he realised all too well that John was dragging out the process of equipping him with a cock ring just to see him squirm under his touch. Brian was harder than he would have liked to have been at the beginning of this session, but there was little he could do than try and distract himself from the inherent sexuality of the situation - something that was made even harder when his master decided that preparations were over and that it was time to roll on to the real thing.

‘Why, that’s a lot better. Subdued is such a good look for you, Brian,’ John purred, the sound of his heels on the floor marking out his walk to the wardrobe again. He rummaged through it again, and Brian was left to guess at what he had fetched from the closet this time when John walked back to the bed. ‘Subdued and debauched and all at my mercy.’

‘Yes- yes, Master.’

‘Speaking of which… Do you think you deserve any mercy?’ John asked - a question that hit Brian like a brick for its suddenness and plainness.

‘I- I’m not sure I do, Master,’ Brian replied, throat dry and voice thick.

‘You’re not sure?’ Brian could almost see the way John would raise one eyebrow along with this question. ‘You’ve got anything to say for yourself that would convince me you deserve mercy?’

Oh, shit. He had given a stupid answer, Brian realised now - he had been disobedient all morning and messed up big time upon his belated admission to John’s bedroom, so there really was nothing he could reasonably bring up to speak for himself. To even say that he was ‘not sure’ he deserved mercy, insinuated the opportunity of there being reasons he would deserve to be treated lightly - which clearly there were _not_.

‘No, Master. I don’t have any reasons I would deserve mercy,’ Brian corrected himself.

‘That’s more like it,’ John agreed, and placed a hand on Brian’s chest. Cold fingertips trailed down Brian’s rib cage, and he shivered. ‘Because really, you’ve given me the worst behaviour I’ve ever seen from you today. Being late, addressing me incorrectly, making lame excuses. Removing your cock ring without permission, just to provoke punishment. You don’t even want mercy, I believe - you _want_ to be punished.’

John pulled on one of his nipple clamps, and Brian gasped. It was getting harder to breathe, let alone think and clearly take in all John was telling him. He did catch the part where John emphasised that he did not want mercy but wanted to be punished, though - the part that really mattered.

Because it was true. He didn’t want mercy - he wanted to be punished. Fuck it, he had deliberately made John catch him without the cock ring he had been ordered to wear to make him pay for it - and he had literally admitted with as many words that he had done all of this because he was hoping for a private session during which his master could turn all of his attention to him. He had wanted punishment, and now that he was on the edge of getting it under the exact circumstances he had wished for, he was not going to back away from it. He wanted John to slap him, to hit him and embarrass him, to make him pay for his disobedience.

To give him what he had come for.

‘Yes, Master. I want to be punished.’ It came out a bit choked and certainly sounded smaller than Brian would have liked, but it sounded sincere nonetheless. It was sincere, and John could tell this.

‘Mh, I thought so. I won’t have mercy on you, but as I appreciate your honesty, I’ll give you one hint to relief your upcoming suffering. Or make it worse, perhaps.’

Brian felt John’s body moving in the space above him, but nothing tangible or audible followed - until something strange landed on his fingers where they were bound together against the headboard. Weird and rubbery, or leathery perhaps, some sort of strings or tails that danced lightly on his hands - and then suddenly it clicked.

‘What’s this, Brian?’ asked his superior.

‘Hng- a flogger, Master.’

‘About right, yes. A cat o’nine tails, specifically.’ The rubbery strings caressed his fingers, the back of his hands, his upper arms, and Brian both longed to lean into them and avoid them at the same time. ‘Have you ever had this before, Baby?’

‘No, Master.’ He could swear he could hear John smirk, which was both exciting and terrifying.

‘I guess this is going to be your first time, then. Not exactly the way I had in mind to introduce you to this sort of whip, but I feel like it’s the most fitting tool in relation to your mistakes.’ John twirled the flogger closely to Brian’s hands, making the straps softly come down on his fingers. Then, as to give him some sort of comfort, John told him: ‘It’s made of rubber rather than leather, and the strings are smooth. We’re only just building this up, after all.’

This, in all honesty, was a relief to Brian indeed. While he was thrilled to have John step up a notch and introduce the cat o’nine tails to him, he knew from eyewitness experience and Freddie and Roger’s talking of the item that it was painful, and the more elaborate and sturdy the strings were, the more intense the slaps would be. He was unsure if he would be able to handle the cat o’nine tails in the first place, let alone one with knots along the strings and beads at the tips. Luckily, John was aware of his needs and boundaries at all times, and Brian trusted him to give him what he deserved according to both his missteps and his physical and mental capabilities.

‘Well then, that’s all the hints you’re gonna get,’ John informed him, and Brian could feel him withdrawing from the place where he had stood to let him feel the flogger in peace. ‘You know your safeword?’

‘Citadel, Master,’ Brian recited the universal safeword as it had been established long before he’d even been part of John’s Dungeon.

‘Good. Anything more to say before we start?’

‘No, Master. Just- I hope I can make you forgive me, Master.’

‘I’m sure that can be arranged if you’re gonna be a good, obedient slave to me,’ John said, which Brian had understood by now was his way of comforting him all would be well once he’d entered his dom headspace. There was no way back now - exactly as Brian liked it.

‘So then,’ John said; Brian could hear him step away from the bed and circle it, focussing on the location of the footsteps he left on the hard wooden floor. ‘You’re here to learn a lesson. Because you… have _not_ been so good as of late.’

Brian felt himself shiver when he merely heard these words. ‘I’m sorry, Master.’

‘That was not a question, pet - just a statement,’ John said sharply. ‘Besides, what did we just establish was my stance on excuses and apologies?’

 _Oh, shit, now it was going down._ ‘Not- not useful, Master. I’m sorry.’ Brian realised that he had been apologising again, but he realised this too late; already the flogger wooshed through the air, and it met with his left upper thigh. He heard the smack before he felt the impact - but when it landed, it hit him hard. It was sharp and intense, tight and located yet spread out across his entire upper thigh. Brian’s first instinct was to clutch at the spot with his hands, but as these were tied, there was little he could do besides tugging at the ropes and bringing up his legs to his chest as well as he could.

‘Ah! Fuck-’ he breathed, which was instantly paid for with a lash at his other thigh, blossoming red against the skin.

‘Scuse you?’ his master asked dangerously. ‘Did I tell you to talk?’

‘No! Sorry Master, no, you didn’t!’

 _THWACK!_ The impact of the lash against his inner left thigh sent Brian reeling, loudly enough for him to only just make out John’s words above the keening noise he was producing himself.

‘Stop apologising if you don’t mean it.’

‘I do mean it! I mean it Master- I’m sorry, I’ll be - ahh, good! Promise!’ Brian was fully aware that he was blabbering rather incoherently, and that his master was unlikely to take anything away from his helplessly unclear plead, but he could not help it. Strained by the ropes, beaten with the flogger, and pressured by the sheer power his master had over him, he could do little else than trying his hardest than try to make it clear that he was trying to obey as best as he could while simultaneously having to express the pain and pleasure that was brought upon him.

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ John told him in response to his claim, giving his subordinate one more smack against his right inner thigh before he withdrew the cat o’nine tails.

Brian, who was rendered unable to see any of the activity going on around him, went on begging: ‘Please, I promise! I’ll do anything, Master, please!’

‘Anything?’ John asked amusedly. He placed a hand on Brian’s left thigh, his skin cold against that of Brian. ‘Such as?’

‘Anything you say! I’ll- I’ll be quiet, I’ll listen, I’ll please you- I’ll pleasure you, anything!’ Brian was turning a little breathless by now, the pain and the sensation and the newness of the flogger all adding to this overly /real/ s

‘That’s just basic BDSM etiquette, pet,’ John snorted. He leaned his hand down heavier on Brian’s thigh, which made Brian groan. The pain was a lot more bearable than that administered to his upper legs with the cat o’nine tails he had just gotten his share of, but it nevertheless stung and tingled unpleasantly to have John press down on spots he had just whacked him powerfully, to say the least.

‘Please, Master,’ Brian whispered between panting lips. Much to his surprise and relief, he was given some time to recover his breathing; a minute or so, during which John tortured him not with the flogger but simply with his hands. This delivered the pain less suddenly, but made Brian grit his teeth to oppress groans of unease from slipping through nonetheless; John poked his long, slender fingers into his whacked skin, and pinched his thighs in the most sensitive places all the same. Brian tugged at the ropes restraining his hands and moved his legs to try and escape the pain, but a sharp grip around his ankles to hold him still forced him to just lie back and take it in the end.

Eventually the cat o’nine tails returned; it travelled over his abdomen slowly and carefully, which made the first slap located in this area all the more unexpected and painful. Brian groaned, but was too dazed out to do much more than this, much to his master’s satisfaction.

‘You’re not so disobedient now, are you?’ John purred at him. Brian could feel the mattress pooling down beside him, indicating that John was either sitting or leaning down on it. The mere thought of John casually taking his seat next to him, whip in his hand and ready to slap him at the first convenient moment, made Brian shudder all over.

‘No, Master.’

‘How come?’

‘Because you… you’re reminding me of my place, Master,’ Brian replied, voice soft and humble ‘Where I belong.’

John was not satisfied yet. ‘And what is your place, Baby?’

‘Under your- ahhh!’ Brian hissed when the cat o’nine tails stung him, this time on his right hip bone. ‘Your domination and rules and- and your control.’

‘Exactly. That’s exactly where you belong,’ John agreed. ‘These next lashes are meant to remind you of that, Baby.’

Before Brian could fully understand what John meant, a slap to the abdominal area of his body demonstrated him, and he doubled over in pain, shock, and gratification as much as the ropes allowed him.

‘Say it, Brian. What are these lashes for?’ John asked, his voice calm yet demanding.

‘To remind me of my place, Master!’

 _SMACK!_ ‘And where is that?’

‘Under you! Under your control, you- your dominance, Master! Ow!’ Brian thrust his knees up and placed his feet on the mattress below. John didn’t say anything about it, but the slap he received on either of his knees was enough to make him realise that this movement was off-limits, and had to be paid for even when he brought them down again by receiving another set of smacks with the tassels against them. Brian groaned helplessly and felt the first tears welling up in his eyes below his blindfold.

‘Once more,’ said John, who was not to be distracted from the task he had established for Brian, even though it was a minor one. ‘In one sentence now, what am I whipping you for?’

‘To remind me that- ugh!’ Brian choked out gracelessly halfway through when another slap hit him, now back in the thighs again. ‘That I’m under your control, Master!’ As the answer had not been spoken in one solid sentence, it was not deemed good enough by John, who made Brian repeat it until he got it right, and then a few more times just for good measure. By the time Brian was shaking and panting with the strain and hardly able to form a coherent sentence anymore regardless of whether the whip would be involved or not, his master made the tassels of the flogger land on his stomach without any force behind it. It was a silent way of communicating that this round of punishment had come to a momentary halt - although this gave no promises for whatever was to follow.

‘So, I think we got the message across. You’re mine, and you’re under my authority,’ John said leisurely. The tassels of the whip trailed up and down Brian’s heaving chest, which was one of the areas less impacted by the cat o’nine tails than other body parts had been. His chest had been spared as to start things off lightly, but his abdomen, hips, and thighs had been taking the brunt all the more. Especially his thighs had been met with the largest number of whiplashes out of those three places; even though Brian could not see them, he could tell that they must have turned bright red in the course of the onslaught they had been pulled through.

His thighs were left alone for the time being; the entire cat o’nine tails was discarded as a matter of fact, although this was no reason for relief to Brian. The whip might be gone, but John’s hand crept up on his upper leg, moved vertically across, and rested eventually in the erogenous zone that was Brian’s crotch. Fingers buried in his pubic hair, they crept down slowly, ever so slowly, to the base of Brian’s cock. Brian’s breath hitched in his throat; in the midst of the whipping session he had been too absorbed in the pain and satisfaction of it all to give much thought to his nether body, but now that the whips in his abdomen had been replaced with a hand on the root of his dick, he had little choice but to give it a thought. Maybe more than just a thought, though; with John’s fingers on the base of his cock and no whip connecting with his inner thighs, there was little to focus on but the sensation John was causing down there.

The impact of the punishment was noticeable in his crotch area, though, even if it had remained untouched up until that point. Brian, already having been harder than he would have liked to have been upon being tied down to the bed, was now properly hard and getting harder under the ministrations John was delivering to his cock; caressing his loins with his thumb and dragging a fingernail along his cock. Brian pushed up against the touch, which merely resulted in John snickering and flicking a finger against his dick. This in turn caused a short stinging sensation that made Brian cringe in pain, then pushed up against John’s hand for more. He needed touching, caressing, flicking, slapping, whatever he could get - he needed friction against his uncomfortably hard dick, regardless of in which shape or form this was to be delivered to him.

Probably seeing that his slave was desperate for any sort of contact with his weeping cock, John withdrew both his hands from Brian’s crotch. Brian gave a bit of a whine upon having to miss the touch against his cock, but he was given little opportunity to complain.

‘Mine,’ John told him, giving a slight tug at the silicone ring around Brian’s cock and balls. ‘You’re mine. All of this is mine.’

‘Yes, Master,’ Brian groaned as John pulled again. ‘I’m yours.’

‘Mh, you are,’ John agreed, before the mood shifted. John changed his position next to Brian - from sitting back on the mattress he went to kneeling, and his hands deserted the region of Brian’s crotch to instead knead at his abused thighs and jutting hip bones. Brian knew that this was the introduction to a new scene of punishment, but was left in the dark - _literally_ \- as to what exactly was going to happen. He indeed had no idea what direction the session was taking when John put a hand on his chest and dragged his fingers down to his navel, slowly, teasingly, driving him crazy. John however seemed in no sort of hurry when Brian desperately chased the touch of it. ‘Now, Brian… What exactly is your role in the Dungeon?’

‘Er- I’m a slave,’ Brian answered, a bit doubtfully.

John seemed satisfied with the answer, though. ‘Mhm. _My_ slave, specifically.’ His hand dipped lower, teased the base of his cock, but pulled away to pinch Brian’s side the second Brian started enjoying the teasing a bit too much. ‘And what is the most important thing _my_ slave has to do?’

Brian blinked behind the blindfold obstructing his eyesight. ‘Obey you…?’

‘Important indeed,’ John agreed. ‘But why should you obey me? What’s the greater good behind that?’

‘Pleasing you,’ Brian replied, a bit more confidently by now - a feeling that was boasted by John agreeing with his answer.

 _‘Exactly_ ,’ John said, by now having leant dangerously close to Brian’s ear; the guitarist shuddered involuntarily, but the praise and niceness turned out to be short-lived when the next thing his superior said was: ‘You’re here to please me. But in all honesty… You’ve done little to please me so far today, you realise that?’

Brian’s felt himself stiffen a little under these words; they were the last thing any slave wanted to hear from their master, and he was instantly humbled down to a soft: ‘Yes, Master.’

‘And…?’ John asked. When an answer did not follow quickly enough to his liking, John took a clothespin on his right nipple between his fingers and tugged at it sharply, which made Brian gasp and forced his brains to come up with a sensible reply.

‘Hng- I’m gonna make up to you. I’ll- do anything to please you, Master!’ Brian whimpered when the first sentence obviously did not please his superior, who tugged harder at the pin.

‘Oh, you _will_ ,’ John agreed ominously and at last let go of the clamp. In the silence that followed, John moved over to straddle Brian’s chest; more than that, Brian could hear his superior unbutton his trousers and dragging down the zipper. It was a matter of mere seconds before something prodded at Brian’s lips. Brian opened his lips to let in the blunt tip of his superior’s cock. Despite being unable to see anything, he could feel right away that John was pretty far gone already. His cock was fully erect in Brian’s mouth, and the head was leaking precum on his tongue. He tried to move his head up to take in more of his master in an attempt to please him but there was little need nor possibility to do so; he was too restricted by both the ropes and John’s hands on him to move much, and besides, John seemed to need no help at all feeding his cock into Brian’s mouth bit by bit, calmly enough to allow Brian to adjust to it but fast enough to make him understand that this was not a lazy day at the beach as to say; it was punishment, and it was carried out as such.

Brian sucked down as much of his master’s length as he could manage from the uncomfortable angle he had been tied down in. Lying on his back and having a cock thrust into his mouth from above him at the pace the other person established was not exactly the best of circumstances to show off whatever skills he had in giving head, but John did not seem to require this of him either for the time being. All his master seemed concerned with now appeared to be to have Brian choke on his dick as much as he could as a form of punishment while, at the same time, trying to get his kicks out of it where he could. Brian’s job was to pleasure him, after all.

By the time Brian had got John’s fully engorged cock down his throat as far as he could in the given circumstances, his master had clutched a hand into his hair, pulling at it in irregular intervals to add to the humbling and yet unspeakably hot experience. Though Brian could sense John was holding back as to not completely ruin him, John still thrust his hips forwards every few seconds or so, and Brian could hear quiet curses leaving John’s lips in between groans directed towards him. They told him he was finally doing what he was supposed to do, finally listened to his master, was finally being good; words of approval and praise that were absolutely crucial to Brian to push himself to the limit as much as he could, taking his master down his throat just one inch further than before and hollowing his cheeks around the dick down his windpipe. John swore loudly, the grip on his hair tightened; Brian could tell by the pulsing of the main vein against his tongue that the bassist wasn’t going to last much longer. Determined to please his master as much as he could given his place and position, Brian pulled back and let part of his dominatrix’ cock slip out of his mouth, then dived right down to ram as much of it down his throat as he could. The unexpected action sent his master swearing and gasping, and Brian added fuel to the fire by pressing his tongue up against the heavily throbbing vein on the downside of John’s cock, licking up and down furiously. The hand tightened in his hair again, the other now on the back of his neck in a helpless attempt of John, on the verge of letting go, to draw himself in even deeper.

‘Ah, fuck- like that, Brian. Just… like that.’ John’s voice was clear and yet it was far away from the audible realm of Brian’s ears. Everything seemed vague and far away now that he was growing out of breath as John’s cock down his throat blocked his windpipe, but Brian refused to come up for air again. He refused to let go of John before making him come, and therefore pressed his eyes shut closely before crowding his master’s cock closer against the roof of his mouth and delivering a few powerful stroked of his tongue to the underside of it. John emitted a bit of a half-shriek, half-gasp above him, and Brian knew the end was upon him.

‘Fuck, that’s it- like that, just like that. Fuck, Baby-’ Brian’s nickname was on John’s tongue when he came, releasing his come with another shriek of Brian’s pet name and a groan of relief. For the last time of that session he thrust his by now shaky hips against Brian’s face, chasing his orgasm with fervour and dizziness.

As John gave, Brian, in the meantime, was left to deal with the absorbing part of the job. Gasping and spluttering, he took as much of his master’s release as he could manage. On the one hand he had little choice but to swallow down all John had to offer, but as his breath had been partially restricted for so long, his first reaction upon John slackening his grip around him was to push the obstruction out of his throat, and with that, letting the largest part of John’s cock be released from his mouth. This made part of the sticky white substance leak from the corners of his mouth, but John did not seem to mind. He did not say or do anything against it, at any rate, so Brian also made no effort to dart out his tongue and catch whatever he could; they would deal with the mess when they got to it.

He was vaguely aware of how John brought up his hands, probably to stroke himself through the aftershocks of his orgasms when a small amount of the bitter substance was released into his mouth. After this master leant back on his heels and helplessly tried to catch his breath along with Brian, still perched on top of the latter’s chest. They were both quiet; John working to recover himself and pick up his role as dominatrix again, and Brian catching his breath and staying as still as he could in an attempt to present himself as a well-behaved submissive. Despite his cock having given more than just a single stir during the process of sucking John off - in fact, it was perfectly hard and begging for attention - it seemed hardy a good idea to Brian to push up his legs and try to get some friction on his weeping cock by rubbing it against his upper thighs. The mere idea of this possibility made him groan with desire, but he forced himself to keep still and obedient and await the moment his master would have recollected himself and would give him further orders.

Luckily, he did not have to wait for too long before John came down again. Having had dozens of blowjobs like these before at the hands of Freddie, Roger, and since recently also Brian, John had trained himself to put himself past the pleasure and feeling of being overwhelmed. After all, he was a dungeon master; he could hardly slant off and simply lie back in a post-orgasmic daze while his slaves would lie tied up to vent for himself as he dozed off.

‘Hm, that was good. _Very_ good,’ John said as he came down from his post-orgasmic rush, stretching his arms and his back as part of recovering himself fully again. ‘My good little slave. So obedient after all,’ he purred, obviously pleased with Brian’s performances despite the weird angle and lack of space he had been forced to work with. A hand landed on Brian’s hair, but this time it was merely to stroke it gently - the other hand was used to pick up a tip of the duvet and wipe at the corners of Brian’s mouth. When he had been cleaned off, the duvet was removed, but the oversensitive half-groan, half-mewl John emitted wordlessly told Brian that John was using the fabric to clean himself off with.

‘You’ve been so good after all, Baby,’ John mused to himself once he had tucked himself back in and the duvet had been straightened out again as if nothing had ever happened with it. Still straddling Brian’s torso but having moved down a bit to sit on his middle by now; John traced a finger over Brian’s rising and falling chest and continued: ‘You’ve been far from perfect, but you’ve redeemed yourself somewhat, sucking me off so well,’ So perhaps you should be allowed to have something.’

Brian, not having expected anything would be in it for him sexually speaking after his goss disobedience that day, felt his eyes prick up at this mention. ‘Have something?’

‘Mhm. I wouldn’t normally give any sort of rewards for such bad, bad slaves, but seeing as it’s your first time in a private session and you’ve tried hard to redeem yourself, I’ll allow you to have a little something.’ A hand smoothed over his chest, and Brian swallowed thickly.

‘Thank you, Master.’

‘So what do you want, Baby?’ The hand was still there, smoothing dangerously close to the place where the makeshift nipple clamp was torturing him, making it hard for Brian to focus. What did he want? It was both an easy and an extremely complicated question. What he wanted was the most mind-blowing orgasm, preferably brought about with John’s cock up his ass and his hands on his dick, but Brian realised himself that that was pushing it. John had just told him he’d allow himself to have a little something, not an entire feast; pushing his luck was something Brian knew his master would not take lightly.

Besides, even if he did decide to go for it and have John know what he really wished for, he could not have told him for the world. His skills and confidence in dirty talking left a lot to be desired, and even if his current neediness convinced him he needed the release, he still would have been unable to speak his mind to his superior without dying of shame.

For this reason, Brian ended up saying: ‘I’m… I… I can’t tell you, Master.’

‘Why not?’ The hand travelled south. ‘Do you have such _outrageous_ wishes, then?’ A finger stroke the outline of his hipbone, and Brian shuddered.

‘I don’t- but I… I can’t tell you, Master. It’s too much, and- too awkward.’ Brian gave a groan as John circled the tip of his cock, gave it a squeeze, and then withdrew not only his hand but also his entire body. He swung a leg over and moved away from Brian’s chest, which left Brian to whine pitifully as his master sat down on the mattress next to where his tied-up body rested. His arms, tied up above his head, felt heavy and useless, and Brian cursed himself for being so pathetic as to not even be capable of telling his master what he wanted.

‘Well, if you can’t tell me, you’re not going to get anything,’ John told him plainly. ‘A spanking is what you’ll get, because you’re disobeying me by not answering me properly. Is that what you want?’ A tug at the clothespin on his left nipple, and Brian let out a choked gasp.

‘No, Master.’

‘Then what do you want?’ John’s voice was authoritarian yet somewhat inviting. Brian squirmed under the touch of his master’s hands roaming free over his body, be it in the most undesirable places possible. His mind was foggy and his brains spun to come up with an answer, but no matter how hard he worked, he could not mentally formulate anything that he would be able to speak out loud. The seconds of silence that passed between them obviously displeased John, who pinched the flesh of his thigh painfully hard in punishment, sending Brian keening. ‘I asked you something, Baby. Tell me what you want or you’ll go over my lap and get nothing apart from more slaps to add to your bum.’

This was an offer Brian could not decline, as to say - he was desperate to avoid any more assault aimed at his ass for the upcoming days. With John’s nails digging into his hipbone, he choked out at last: ‘Hng- I want to come, Master, please.’

‘I thought so,’ John said with an air of smugness. ‘And how do you want to come?’

 _Oh, fuck it._ Now that he had started, he might as well get on with it; if not, he would both risk being spanked and losing his one opportunity to get some relief out of this for his weeping cock. ‘With- with your cock, Master.’

‘With my cock?’ John repeated leisurely. ‘Where do you want it, then?’

‘Every-everywhere,’ Brian squeaked. ‘I want it in my mouth, all over my face, and my chest, and-’ God, Brian could not believe he was going to say this out loud. ‘And inside of me. I want your cock up my ass, please.’ He realised a split second later that he had not addressed his superior by the correct term, or as anything at all really, but luckily John seemed too drawn in by the idea of Brian talking dirty that he did not seem to notice. At least he did not comment on it, too busy focussing on the fact that he had finally managed to push Brian into dirty talking despite his uneasiness about it.

‘Yes? You want my cock up that tight little hole of yours?’ John asked, hand leaving Brian’s hipbone and travelling down to brush over his dick where it lay proud and erect against his belly. ‘Want my cock to split you open and make you scream?’

‘Yes- fuck, yes, I want it, Master. I want it so badly,’ Brian said helplessly. Despite his initial dislike for dirty talking, he was getting into it now - only to have it all come crashing down on him mere seconds later.

‘I know you want it,’ John acknowledged. ‘But have you been good enough to deserve such a privilege?’’

Brian closed his eyes behind the blindfold, already feeling himself lose hope he was ever going to get anything even remotely close to John’s cock, or even being allowed to come in any sensible, non-embarrassing and non-painful way. ‘No, Master.’

‘You’re right. You _really_ haven’t,’ John emphasised, which made Brian feel incredibly small and humble because he knew it was true. He had been behaving terribly, and did not deserve any rewards; to hear his master make this overly clear to him was painful, though.

‘If we’re purely looking at what you deserve, I’d throw you over the bench and spank you sore with a wooden paddle, and rub it in with some Deep Heat. Tie you to the bench and leave you hanging there for an hour or two - maybe that’ll teach you,’ John summed up. ‘How does that sound?’

Brian, who felt his heart skip a beat at the idea of this terrible prospect, swallowed thickly. ‘Not very good, sir, but- it’s what I deserve,’ he said softly.

‘You agree it’s what you deserve?’ John asked. Brian, although terribly afraid that agreeing would be the pathway to being dragged into this exact form of punishment, humbly answered in the affirmative. He knew he deserved it, and disagreeing in any way might get him in even worse situations. Luckily for him, his complete surrender to John’s ways at last got him somewhere.

‘Humble at last. Perhaps I should reconsider, then,’ John pondered out loud. ‘Leave the Deep Heat and the spanking bench for another time.’

Brian felt a tinge of hope. ‘Please, Master. I’d be- I’d be very grateful.’

‘It’s your first session after all,’ John considered. ‘Maybe I should not be too strict this time. Not have your first private session end in tears and frustration already.’

‘Thank you, Master. I’m- I’m infinitely grateful,’ Brian whispered.

‘So submissive after all, huh?’ John remarked. ‘Maybe I should let you come after all. How would you like that?’ He gave Brian’s cock a bit of a squeeze as to allow him a touch of what was going to come up, and Brian failed to not push his entire body up against the touch.

‘I would love that, Master. I’d really- ah, really love that.’ Brian involuntarily licked his lips.

‘I know you would love to get some relief. I mean - clearly you’re not going to get my cock, or any part of my body; I don’t want to give you any false impressions of what bad behaviour brings you,’ John told him, which was a bit of a disappointment to Brian, although not entirely unexpected. ‘But I might have a way around it. Something that you’ll need to learn to work with one of these days anyway.’

John joined Brian on the upper side of the bed, where he released Brian’s wrists from the headboard. For a moment it seemed like he was going to release his hands altogether, a welcome change for Brian’s sore wrists, but his hands were merely brought down behind his back and secured again. Once this task had been completed, Brian was ordered to kneel on the bed - which he managed with a bit of support from John, as he had no hands available to stabilise himself - and then John reached for what sounded like the drawer of the nightstand.

‘Stretch your fingers,’ John ordered, which Brian did as well as he could. John squirted a cold, slick substance onto them and then withdrew. ‘Work yourself open until three fingers. You’re going to get two minutes.’

The demand was sudden and unexpected, but Brian, knowing he was going to need all the time he had been given, quickly set out to work. He rubbed his fingers against each other to spread the lube as best as he could, shifted to lean on his knees rather than his feet, and rubbed at the puckered flesh of his entrance. The mere touching itself made his cock stir in interest and desire, and Brian gnawed on his bottom lip while he braced himself with a single finger, pushing it past the tight ring of muscles. The intruder was cold and uneasy at first, but he soon grew used to the feeling of his own middle finger inside himself when he started pumping. It was weird, the angle and the fact that his wrists were bound together while doing this - the knowledge that John was most definitely watching him as he struggled to push a second digit to join the first. It was awkward and embarrassing, and it was so fucking hot.

A minute or so passed, during which Brian had frantically and clumsily worked himself open to the point where two fingers fit comfortably - as comfortably as could be expected, that was - before John spoke. ‘Such a good boy. You like the feeling of your own fingers up your ass?’

Brian, just in the process of scissoring the two digits against his inner walls, groaned. ‘Not as much as... I would have liked your fingers, Master,’ he admitted, which earned him a slight squeeze of his buttock, right on the border between painful and pleasing in the light of his bottom’s current state.

‘Cheeky,’ John commented, but he seemed pleased with Brian’s naughty take on praising him. He gave him an encouraging pat on the head and stood up, his heels clattering on the floor when he made his way over to what Brian assumed was the wardrobe again.

‘I’ll tell you something which I’ve admitted to Freddie and Roger also when their time was ripe,’ John mused, going through the contents of the box in the closet. ‘You see, being the master of three slaves - especially slaves like Blondie, Bambi, and you - can be challenging. Always demanding, always testing me, hard to satisfy… I simply don’t always have the time or the energy to keep you all under my thumb, and to keep you all content,’ he said. Brian felt himself blushing at the combination of his master’s sightly condemnatory words and the smooth tone in which he spoke; he took it all in as he pushed home a third finger and founded up and down his own hand. John continued talking in the background.

‘Sometimes I literally feel like I could use another pair of hands. Which is why it’s nice to have some equipment to help me out every now and then. Time’s up, by the way,’ John added to his story, and Brian reluctantly stopped the movements of his fingers. He did not withdraw them, though, unsure about whether he should or not; he kept them in place, and John left him like that when he dumped something on the other side of the bed, moved to the headboard, and stood behind him to take off his blindfold. He was still occupied with his monologue. ‘There is a marvellous invention I learned of a while back, and it’s been a lifesaver for long Dungeon sessions with Blondie and Bambi, really. I’m sure you’ll like it, too - you might have to get used to it at first, but I have no reason to believe you couldn’t do just that. Eyes closed until I tell you you can open them.’

The blindfold was removed from his eyes, which Brian for the time being kept tightly shut. It was a bit of a relief to finally be able to say goodbye to the restrictive piece of fabric, but he did not want to celebrate too quickly. He did not know what his superior had in store for him now that he could make use of his vision again, but it seemed he did not have to wait in anticipation for long. John discarded the sash and moved to the other side of the bed, and was ready to reveal his plans to Brian.

‘Open your eyes, Baby,’ he instructed, which Brian did. He opened them carefully and blinked to adjust his eyes to the candlelit room, the combination of darker and lighter spots around him. His vision slowly made sense of his surroundings; the bed, the wardrobe to the right, his master standing next to the bed at the other side. More specifically, the large iron rod or whatever it was that John held in his hands. Brian squinted a bit to look at the unfamiliar thing, but could make little sense out of it.

‘Do you know what this is, Brian?’ John asked him. Brian continued to eye the thing; an iron pole with two iron loops at the end. _Aha_.

‘Uh- it’s a spreader bar, Master.’

‘Indeed. A spreader bar, and what?’

Brian took a better look at the thing, and noticed indeed that there was yet something else to it. Right in the middle of the pole, a large fake cock boasted all of its at least eight inches, and Brian swallowed. ‘With a dildo attached…?’

‘Exactly,’ John purred. ‘So that’s what we’re gonna do; I’m gonna hook your legs to this bar, get this dildo settled, and then you’re going to fuck yourself senseless on this fake cock.’ A whimper of both excitement and degradation escaped Brian; John took no heed of it. ‘You’re going to come with this silicone cock up your ass only tonight - no touching of any sort. Come from this dildo or not at all. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Master,’ Brian said breathlessly, eyes fixated on the tool. As John had warned him before, this was something he had never used or even seen before; and though it looked terrifying and somewhat painful to Brian, he was too far gone in desire for release to not at least wonder what it would be like, let alone if it could help him chase that orgasm he longed for so desperately.

‘Good. Spread your legs,’ John ordered and strode over, the spreader bar firmly in his hands. Brian spread his legs as much as he could while kneeling on the mattress. John in the meantime unscrewed one of the leg holes, and, upon having opened it, wasted no time catching Brian’s left ankle in it. The metal was cold against his skin, Brian noted; but he was more focused on the sweat pearling on his forehead. He was excited, nervous, embarrassed, degraded, enthusiastic all at once - he forced himself to patiently wait until John had trapped both of his ankles in the spreader bar, but in reality, his weeping cock was begging him to do something, _anything_ , to get some friction.

‘Seeing as it’s your first time, I’ll get some lube on this dildo,’ John announced behind Brian. ‘It’s a sturdy thing, I’ll have you know. Not one of those flexible specimen we use most of the time, but I’m sure that hole of yours won’t mind. It’s practically begging for anything to fill it up,’ he said, and Brian whimpered as an off way to show both agreement and impatience.

When the fake cock had been thoroughly lubed up, John ordered Brian to lift himself up a bit. He pulled out Brian’s fingers, but made sure that there was hardly time to complain about the loss of them by instantly replacing them with the real deal, as to say. The dildo, which apparently could be rotated around the spreader bar, was nudged right at Brian’s lube-slicked entrance, and the guitarist let out a choked little moan.

‘It’s all yours, honey,’ John told him almost sweetly. ‘Go ahead.’

Brian did not need to be told twice. The instant he’d been given a green light, he lined himself up against the dildo, closed his eyes, and pushed himself down on the toy. He choked out a combination between a gasp and a groan as he felt the tip entering him; broad and solid, it was exactly what he needed. It was too much to push himself down on it all at once, so Brian lifted his hips up as much as he could, the tip resting snugly in the tight ring of muscles, and then he pushed down again. The cock now tore deeper into him, and Brian felt himself shudder. It was large and solid, as John had told him, but the veins on its rigid surface brushed against his walls so deliciously that it made Brian want to peel paint off the wall. With some words of encouragement from John, Brian repeated the actual a few times, until the silicone cock was fully nestled inside of him.

‘Isn’t that good, Brian? Don’t you love how it’s splitting you open?’ John asked, watching smugly from the sideline.

‘Yes, Master,’ Brian breathed. ‘I love it.’

‘Better show it then, before I take it away from you.’

This ominous threat was enough to make Brian’s muscles stiffen. He was so relieved to finally have a chance at release, so satisfied to have been given mercy in the form of a dildo that seemed as if it was made for him, and the thought of losing it just now that he’d been presented with it was killing him.

Better get on with it, then.

With John’s eyes glued on him, Brian started lifting himself up- then crashing down on the toy in rapid succession, leaving him breathless and whimpering and utterly helpless to the feeling of the warmth coiling in the depth of his belly. It felt both so cheap and so belittling to present himself like this in front of his master, but he could not stop himself, or even allow himself to linger on this thought for too long. He was chasing his release and nothing was going to stop him.

Determined as he was to get his kicks, however, Brian soon found that there was in fact something that was going to stop him – or, in fact that there were multiple factors that were going to stop him. As he continued to bounce up and down the fake cock under John’s watchful eyes and words of shame and encouragement, he felt his body gradually exchanging his energy and determination with tiredness, strain, and limpness. It was hard work, pushing oneself up and down time after time – and especially so when one had been tied down at both the hands and the feet, sentenced to an awkward kneeling position.

The spreader bar-dildo construction was also growing more and more uncomfortable to Brian; it forced him to either relax his upper leg muscles but being forced to take the dildo so far up inside that he made him feel like someone was splitting his spine with an arrow, or have the toy slip almost entirely out of him at the cost of straining his upper leg muscles painfully hard. Neither of the positions could be performed for longer than an approximate five seconds in his state of being, so even when he was both mentally and physically exhausted, he was forced to move up and down, up and down, repeat and not fade out. It was painful, it was belittling, it was exhausting, it was frustrating – it was punishment worse than in the cat o’nine tails had been. At least he’d been able to lie down and catch his breath between the lashes; right now there was not a second to come up for air between the excruciating straining of his muscles interspersed with his ass being thoroughly ploughed up.

And still, there was no end to the torture nearing for him. While he was painfully hard, cock heavy and proud against his belly, the tingling sensation in his lower belly announcing he was close was fading rather than growing stronger. No matter how hard Brian fought with his body on the dildo and his mind on all possible thoughts and images he hopes would help get him there and push him over the brink, nothing happened – he was just left there, humping in the air and pushing himself to the point where he knew that he’d be unable to properly walk for days after this.

To make matters worse, Brian was not the only one displeased that he had been unable to tip himself over the edge yet. While the minutes had passed, John’s encouragements became more like taunts, which made Brian blush as he tried his best to pick up the pace and get himself off. But coming untouched was hard for him, and in the current circumstances – hands tied, ankles sore, legs straining, energy wearing thin were not helping much. Then, to make matters worse, John decided he’d had enough of sitting and watching the scene going nowhere.

‘You’re rather taking your time, huh? Freddie and Roger would have been long gone by now,’ John commented, and Brian blushed even more, if still possible.

‘Sorry, Master,’ he squeaked, slamming himself down on the toy again, to no avail other than to stretch him out and make him hiss. What John said next, however, left him unable to move for a split second.

‘You’re getting one more minute, and if you’re not done by then, we’ll leave it at that, and you can go to sleep without getting your kicks tonight.’

What? One minute to finish himself off, or going to sleep like this? Even though the spreader bar with dildo was torture, Brian infinitely preferred it to being left on the bed to fall asleep with his hands behind his hand and his cock begging for attention. John seriously could not do that to him – but the way he conveyed this emotion was all wrong.

‘No!’ The word escaped Brian before he knew it, and after he could stop himself from saying it. He froze in place, and so did his superior, who glared at him with a look that told Brian all he needed to know.

‘ _Excuse_ me?’ John asked dangerously. Brian, who normally would have covered his mouth with his hand, was left to look at his master pleadingly with a jaw that had dropped upon realising what he had just done

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Brian managed, but he had barely uttered the words or there was a strong hand on his shoulder pushing him headfirst into the mattress, the dildo slipping out of him and leaving him stunningly empty as he collapsed on the bed. It would have been a relief if it had not been for John to instantly come up and leave a sharp SMACK! across his already badly manhandled buttocks.

‘ _I’m_ the one who issues the demands here, _not_ you,’ John established, raising his voice to make it overpower the sound of Brian’s screams and cries and begs.

‘I know! Iknowiknowiknow, I’m sorry! S-sorry, Master _please_ , I swear!’ Brian was wheezing as a series of relentless slaps rained down on his backside. He was bonelessly sprawled out on the mattress, forced to take his punishment as he leaked tears into the duvet below him. It hurt, it hurt so fucking much, but he knew he deserved every last one of the dozen or so slaps that were delivered to his ass before his master pulled him back up again. Brian hardly dared to face John as the man took both of his shoulders and looked him deep in the eyes.

‘Listen here, Baby. You do _not_ talk to your Master like this. Am I _clear_?’

‘Ye-es, Master,’ Brian sobbed and hiccupped helplessly. For a moment, John’s eyes softened a bit, and his grip on Brian’s shoulders weakened. ‘What’s your colour, Brian?’ he whispered, as if he was taking Brian aside within the game they were playing among themselves.

‘Green,’ Brian sniffed. Despite the pain and the tiredness and the embarrassment and the terrible guilt of disappointing his master, he was determined to pull through with this. He could do it, he was strong enough to handle this, and he was going to carry out his task, his sentence, his session, whatever they were currently doing until the end. He had wanted this private session, and he still did, which he was determined to show John.

‘You’re sure?’ John asked. Brian nodded wordlessly, but John looked at him until he spoke the words to him.

‘Yes, Master,’ Brian whispered.

‘Good boy,’ John said softly and patted his shoulder. Then, straightening his back as to establish they were heading back into their session, John ordered, albeit not unkindly: ‘One minute to finish yourself off, Brian. Time’s running.’

A choked sob came from Brian’s throat, and he forced his strained upper leg to lift him up enough so that he could position himself above the dildo again. He then let go and crashed down on it, a sob ripping through his body when the silicone rod filled him deeply and suddenly. He repeated the movement, and again, even though both he and his master both seemed to know that it was useless, plain delay of execution. His cock, although still hard and proud against his belly, hardly stirred at the forced friction it was supposed to accept. It was a lost cause, and both Brian and John realised this all too well.

‘Time’s up, honey,’ John said, faster than Brian would have assumed him to do. The minute he’d been given passed faster than he thought it would, though it would not surprise him if John had simply cut it off earlier as a sheer act of mercy, or to save them both any more embarrassment.

Brian, in midair as the order was given, let himself fall down on the dildo for what he supposed was going to be the last time. Tears blurring his view, he silently cursed himself no having been able to finish, for disappointing both himself and his master. He’d let the both of them down, he was a failure - perhaps he should go back to the vanilla scene if he could not even comply with simple tasks and then cried like a baby when he inevitably failed.

‘C’mon Baby, it’s okay. Nothing to be ashamed or upset about. You’re just gonna need some help,’ John told him calmly and reasonably. ‘Do you want some help?’

Brian looked at John through the tears as if to see if he was serious, or just playing a trick on him. When it seemed that he meant it, the guitarist nodded uselessly.

‘Talk to me,’ John said.

‘Yes, Master. Please- I’d like some help,’ Brian sniffled. John gave him an understanding smile, but what he did next absolutely chilled Brian to the bone.

‘Freddie! Roger!’ The names of his fellow slaves were called with such loud and demanding voices that Brian was sure the neighbours must have been able to hear them, although they were the last thing Brian was worried about at this point. Here he was, bound on the bed with a spreader bar and a silicone cock up his ass, sporting a straining erection, yet teary and sniffy because he hadn’t succeeded in making himself come on said cock - and his fellow slaves were on the verge of coming in and seeing him like this. Of course they had seen him in various states of undress and Dungeon attire before, using a multitude of toys and gear on top of that, but this was different. This was him being in a state of desperation about to be taunted for his greediness, disobedience, or whatever it was that had landed himself here.

Footsteps in the hallway, and a familiar voice calling out: ‘You called, Master?’

‘Can you come down here? We’re in the Dungeon. Brian needs your help,’ John said. Brian opened his mouth, but nothing came about apart from a choked sob.

The door swung open, and Brian stood eye in eye with Freddie and Roger, who, although called into the Dungeon, seemed entirely unprepared for what they were faced with. He could hardly blame them; he would have felt the same if he were in their position.

‘What can we do- _oh_!’ Roger called out in surprise when he caught sight of Brian, who realised he must look terribly small and helpless, all sweat-slicked and teary-faced and curled up on the bed with his hands and legs tied behind him.

‘My oh my!’ Freddie joined Roger in his surprise, but was eager to know what they had been called in for even more. ‘How can we be of service?’

‘Our dear boy’s got some trouble finishing tonight,’ their master informed them, and Brian faced away in shame. ‘Maybe you can give him some encouragement?’ John cocked his head at his slaves. ‘Nothing sexual - just see if you can get him in the mood, help him come.’

‘I’d be more than pleased to see what I can do,’ Roger grinned.

‘Kind of you,’ John remarked. ‘Brian knows this spreader bar is the only thing he’s going to be given tonight, so it’s all or nothing.’ Roger raised his eyebrows and breathed out through his mouth as to indicate that it was a serious case, but Freddie seemed confident enough to take it upon them.

‘Say no more, Master. I’m sure something can be arranged,’ Freddie said. ‘Can he talk?’

‘He’s allowed to, but he might be past speaking at this point,’ John grinned, after which he gave Freddie an encouraging pat on the back and stepped back to allow Brian’s fellow slaves to take care of him. Roger and Freddie wasted no time doing so; while Roger crawled on the mattress to position himself behind Brian, Freddie plumped down on the piece of pattress in front of him. He ran a hand through his own hair to shake it out of his face and elegantly crossed his legs over each other, and offered an uncomfortable, teary, and apprehensive looking Brian with a smile.

‘Hi, honey. Are you okay? Are you holding out?’ Brian paused for a second, then nodded at Freddie through a haze of tears. He was holding out, after all, and he was okay - just extremely uncomfortable and desperate for his share of release, which Freddie seemed to understand without even having to ask. Of course he did - he had been in similar situations times and times again before. ‘Yes? Can you keep up for a little longer?’ Freddie asked him. Brian nodded again, be it more desperately than determinedly.

Freddie seemed to take it, though. ‘Great. We’re gonna get you there, no worries.’ The smile on his friend’s face was meant to be a comfort, but it just made Brian feel so stupid, so silly as he was sitting here in the most unfortunate position both mentally and physically. There Freddie was, smiling and trying to make him feel at ease, while all he could do was continue to sob. It was pathetic, but Freddie - God bless him - did not seem to think any less of him because of it.

‘Now, I’ve seen Master has given you one of his favourite toys,’ Freddie said, a hand resting on Brian’s upper leg. ‘Which is torture until you know your way around it,’ he said in a whisper, as if he was about to share a classified state secret with Brian. Despite himself, Brian found himself glued to this voice of his friend. ‘Do you want me to teach you?’

‘Yes,’ Brian whispered, sniffing away a tear.

‘Very good. Now, I know you’ve been wearing yourself out on this toy to get it in deep, but that’s not the thing - you need to start shallowly, and then when you’re close, you ram it all the way home,’ Freddie instructed. The thought of it sounded so good, but Brian knew it was impossible to push himself to perform that amount of strength in his upper legs.

‘But I can’t- my legs,’ he said helplessly.

‘I know. That’s why you’re now gonna put hands between your feet and buttocks,’ he said. Brian was unsure what exactly Freddie wanted him to do, but Roger, sitting behind him, took his bound hands and, helping him lift himself up a bit, put them where previously his buttocks and heels hat met. Brian gasped when the extra space between butt and the feet, strapped to the spreader bar, made the dildo half slip out of him. It was then that he got just about an idea of what Freddie had been talking about.

‘And now you just- exactly,’ Freddie nodded when Brian carefully started moving up and down the remainder of the silicone cock that was now able to reach inside of him. A little gasp of pleasure and relief escaped him - it felt instantly better now that he did not have to strain his thighs all the way anymore, and now that the dildo was unable to longer to reach so far inside him that it made him want to double over. Instead, it moved snugly, wetly inside of him, with the details on the fake flared head rubbing the muscles close to his entrance every time he came up. It felt like heaven.

‘Doesn’t that feel good, Brian?’ Roger asked behind him.

‘Yess,’ Brian hissed, even throwing his head back with the pleasure of it. It felt new and yet it felt familiar, it still strained his muscles but not like before, it was deep but not too much so - it was just perfect.

Freddie, obviously seeing he was enjoying himself, took the liberty to ask him a dirty question to match the mood: ‘Who are you thinking about with that cock up your ass?’ Brian’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at the singer through heavy-lidded eyes, but Freddie just smiled naughtily at him and asked again. ‘Who is it that you’re fantasising about right now? Who are you imagining is behind you, having you bounce up and down their cock? Tell me who’s on your mind.’

Fuck, _fuck_ , that question was a lot to think about, and even more so to answer. Brian wasted no time in doing so anyway, though - despite his shyness, there was little left of his filter in the heat of the moment.

‘Master John,’ Brian breathed out - both because he did not dare say anything else with his master’s watchful eyes looming over him, and because it was the truth.

‘Good boy,’ Freddie praised him. _‘Such_ a good boy. And you know what? I bet he’s wishing the same thing. Look at him standing there, Freddie said, pointing a vague, sloppy hand into John’s general direction, which Brian nevertheless followed - only to let the filthiest of groans pass when he was faced with the image of his master chewing on his own bottom lip and palming himself through his trousers at the sight of his slave. ‘Would you look at that, his eyes are literally _devouring_ you. I can tell how much he wishes that it was him who was destroying you like this, that he could tear away this stupid spreader bar and be the one to pound into you, over and over again, until you’d be a begging mess beneath him.’

Brian pressed his eyes close as to block out at least one of his senses now that it was all becoming too much. He felt so good, so needy and desperate and frustrated and yet so good bouncing up and down the plastic cock with the tips and tricks of his friends; so much that he felt that same warm heat building up inside of him again. Fuck, ‘Freddie-’

‘Oh, it can hardly be _me_ you’re longing for,’ Freddie said plainly. ‘It shouldn’t be my name you should call; it should be that of our master. He’s the only one you want, and the one who wants you more than anyone in the world right now. As I said, he’d screw you so deeply into the bed that it’s leave marks on the mattress. And he’d do it again, and again, and _again_ , until you’d be reduced to tears, begging him to both stop and to go on at the same time because you can’t handle going either with or without it.’

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck-’ Brian whimpered, hips bucking wildly. ‘I’m close, fuck-’

‘Release his arms, Rog,’ Freddie shortly instructed to the man sitting behind Brian, and whom Brian could feel tugging at his arms to release them from their place on his heels. The first time he now came down was an absolute shock; with nothing in the way, his buttocks and heels landed right on top of each other, and the dildo between them was forced inside of him in one quick, sudden thrust. This time, however, it did not feel like his spine was being split in two; it felt good, so good, and he needed more of it.

With whatever strength and energy he had left in his body, he lifted himself up and landed right back on the toy again; then did it again, and again, until tears of frustration and strain and intensity were blurring his sight. Still he did not stop; and even when he slowed down, Roger was right behind him to pull him up below his armpits and then press him down onto the cock to make sure the rhythm remained solid and steady, so much so that Brian felt the tingling in his lower belly starting to overtake.

‘Close, close, close, hng- _fuck_ -’ Brian uttered helplessly as to warn his fellow slaves, and then, after one particularly powerful thrust, his mouth opened into a pretty o-shape, and he released his load all over his chest, so sudden and quick that a few drops of cum hit his chin. He wished he could have wiped them away, but instead, they were absorbed by Freddie’s cream coloured silk blouse when his completely limp body fell forwards and into the embrace his friend was already offering to him before he could even be warned he was going to collapse.

‘There we go,’ Freddie said with his chin resting on Brian’s sweaty curls. ‘There we go. I told you we’d get you through this.’ Brian could detect a hint of pride in Freddie’s voice, either towards himself or towards his friend, but he could not make it out exactly. The powerful orgasm had washed over his body like a shockwave, attacking all at once and leaving him empty and powerless afterwards. It was a blessing to have Freddie to catch him as he fell, and to have Roger remove the toy out of him. The biggest blessing, however, was that John strode over and rubbed warm and pleasant circles on his back as he untied Brian’s hands and released the spreader bar from his ankles, all the while uttering comforting words to him.

‘So good, Brian, so good you’ve been,’ John praised him while undoing the last knot around his sore wrists. ‘You’ve been such a perfect boy for us.’ Brian, still panting into Freddie’s chest as the older man held him, was beyond answering. Luckily for him, it seemed like this was not asked of him anyway. Instead, Roger was summoned to get warm towels and a hot water bottle; John in the meantime produced towels and various tubes of cream. With the help of Freddie, he turned Brian to his back to carefully clean him off - something that made a still overemotional and oversensitive Brian shed a tear or two in his state of vulnerability, which in turn earned him a cuddle - and applied a layer of cream on his thighs and hips. He was then carefully levered to his belly, and rested his cheek on Freddie’s lap while his master generously spread a different, more gel-like substance on his bottoms and thighs.

‘You’re gonna feel this for a while, Baby,’ John warned him. ‘But you’ve been so good and brave today - I’m sure you’ll get through this just as well.’

‘Thank you, Master,’ Brian answered, even though he was not too sure if he had really been so brave that day. Everyone else around him seemed convinced of it, though; from Freddie and John who spoke praise of him, to Roger when he returned with the requested items.

‘Towels and a hot water pouch for our brave new sub,’ he announced upon entering the bedroom again. Brian blushed a little when John wholeheartedly agreed while wrapping him up in towels to prevent the cream from staining the bed too much, then moved him over to the head of the bed and tucked him in under a thick layer of at least two fleece blankets underneath the regular duvet. Drowsy and out of energy, it took Brian a second before he realised that being tucked into John’s bed at this point in the evening probably meant he’d stay the night in the master bedroom.

‘I’m… sleeping here tonight?’ Brian asked to confirm his suspicions.

‘Unless that makes you uncomfortable?’ John half-said, half-asked. Brian nodded his head and snuggled a little deeper into the soft cushions to show he was more than happy to spend the night with his superior. As he made himself comfortable, he could overhear the rest of the group talk to each other, and involuntarily eavesdropped on their conversation.

‘I hope Baby’s session went alright despite the little setback?’ Either Roger or Freddie; Brian was too far gone to tell for sure.

‘More than alright. I’ve been more careful of course, as it was the first time, but he’s been very good and obedient.’ John, definitely.

‘Of course he was. We knew you were sceptical, but I told you he could do it.’

Brian’s eyes snapped open. Hold on. Freddie or Roger, or possibly both of them, had known John was sceptical about taking him apart for a private session? Master had told them of their arrangement?

The conversation went on, John speaking this time. ‘I knew he could do it, but- I wasn’t too sure what to expect. Brian is a bit more introverted than you two.’

‘Which is why this was exactly what he needed. He’d been begging for it all week, and you know it. It was about time you jumped into action.’

Begging for it all week? Did Freddie and Roger _know_ he had been carefully planning his misbehaving in hopes of catching John’s attention?

Bringing up his head slightly, Brian asked: ‘You- Master _told_ you?’

Three faces turned into his direction, but that of Freddie in particular smiled amusedly at him. ‘Master told us? Oh darling, we told him!’

‘You- told _him_?’ Brian weakly pushed himself up on his wrists, and despite the searing pain in his bottom, managed to put himself half upright.

‘Mm-hm,’ Roger agreed. ‘It was about time someone told him, with all the disobedience you worked yourself up with.’

‘You knew I- I did that on purpose?’ Brian could feel his cheeks heating up.

‘We could see it from a mile away, darling,’ Freddie grinned. ‘You’d been acting up all week, and public punishment _clearly_ wasn’t doing it or you. That’s why we convinced John to punish you this morning - and then, when we saw him as we left from giving you aftercare, we told him to go for it because you clearly wanted a private session.’ Freddie was beaming, but Brian stared at him in total embarrassment - something that did not get better when Freddie added: ‘John’s been worried about it all day, but we told him you could handle it.’

Brian’s head was boiling over with questions this explanation ignited in him. Apparently Freddie and Roger had known what was coming up for him, had even planned this session for him, yet still made him late for the appointment they apparently had planned for him themselves. More than that, John had been worried about him being able to deal with a private session, even more so than he’d been willing to admit while coming to talk about it with Brian after the initial punishment he’d been given that morning.

Brian decided to ask the lighter of the two questions first. ‘So you knew- and yet you… made me stay to watch TV? Knowing I’d be late?’

‘John was unsure what to punish you for other than what you’d already been punished for,’ Roger shrugged. ‘I told him I could give him some reasons.’

Brian blinked at him a bit dazedly, but as this was a pretty conclusive answer on its own, he decided to leave it at this and instead turned to his master to post a more pressing question.

‘You... worry about me?’ he asked softly.

‘Of course I do,’ John smiled softly. ‘You’re my newest slave. I want to be careful with you.’

Roger snorted from the sideline. ‘You never seemed to feel that way with me.’

‘That’s because you’re just begging for it at all times,’ John told him, voice slightly denigratory. ‘I can tell when you want it.’

‘Brian was begging for it, too,’ Roger argued, making his fellow slave look away in shame. ‘You just need to know how to look for it.’

This seemed to be a touché for John, who shrugged innocently and admitted: ‘I guess I’ll have to work on myself to spot that, then.’

‘You don’t have to, darling,’ Freddie said, before making an offer he must have known John would decline, regardless of how tempting it might have been. ‘I can teach you for the mere promise of never making me pen over any work by Charles Dickens by hand anymore as a form of punishment.’

‘Cleverness is your way of asking for it, Bambi,’ John said, giving Freddie’s bottom a smack. ‘Which reminds me - I don’t think I’ve ever made you pen out _Dombey and Son_ yet.’

‘842 pages, Fred,’ Roger said, seeming to speak of experience. ‘Please spare yourself the trauma of that.’

‘I’ll spare you both the trauma if you’ll come with me to get changed,’ John offered. ‘It’s late, we have a long day in the studio ahead of us, and more than that, Brian needs sleep.’

Seeming to agree with John’s reasons, or at least to be willing to pretend to do in order to escape the horror of being given the most mind-numbing of punishments, Freddie and Roger took their leave of Brian. With a pet over his messy hair from Roger and a kiss on his cheek from Freddie, they left the guitarist on his own to sleep off the stress, frustration, fear, and excitement of all he had been pulled through that day.

‘I’ll be right with you, guys,’ John dismissed Freddie and Roger, who waited for him at the door. They walked into the hallway, and John sat down on the mattress next to Brian to pull the duvets up from his waist to his shoulders to properly cover his exhausted body.

‘You’ve been so good today; I’m so proud,’ John said, a hand rubbing Brian’s shoulder. ‘We should do this more often.’ Brian shifted slightly, and the duvet slipped off; John adjusted it and tucked it around his body.

‘I’ll be back soon,’ John whispered as he stroked Brian’s still reddish cheek, but the message was not received at the other end of the line. Exhausted after a long day of pain, pleasure, punishment, hope, frustration, and finally getting what he wanted, Brian had drifted off somewhere halfway through the discussion John had been having with his other slaves. He smiled softly, and leant in to kiss Brian’s forehead. He then tiptoed to the door and made his way to the bathroom, looking out for the prospect of joining his sweet, brave new sub in bed for a good night’s rest after a long but successful day in the Dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!! I die without feedback and/or interaction, so please let me know what you thought or come find me on my Tumblr @shewas-agaystripper
> 
> Love you all!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading - the second part of the chapter will be up next week! In the meantime, come talk to me on Tumblr (@shewas-agaystripper) about the Dungeon or Queen or international diplomatic relations between former East Block Countries or whatever you wish!


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